


Strange Waters

by While_we_breathe_we_shall_defend



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Almost Love Confessions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Harvey Bullock, BAMF Jim Gordon, Body Horror, Body Worship, Canon-Typical Violence, Caregiving, Complicated Relationships, Confused Harvey, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark elements, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fantasy elements, Follow the Plot Bunny into Wonderland, Free Will, Full-fledged transformations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm not telling you, Identity Issues, Jim Gordon's Mental Breakdown, Light Petting, M/M, Maybe in more ways than one, Other, Pining, Protective Harvey, Purring, Season/Series 03, Slow Burn, This one is weird beautiful and a little creepy guys, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Versatile Jim, What Was I Thinking?, You may ask into what, not beta read we die like men, so much pining, submissive jim, you know you want it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/While_we_breathe_we_shall_defend/pseuds/While_we_breathe_we_shall_defend
Summary: Hugo Strange was a madman, unfortunately a clever madman. Detectives Bullock and Gordon knew one thing for sure: That scientist had to be stopped, no matter what. Dr. Strange had caused too much havoc - first, the horrors of Pinewood. Then, the monsters of Indian Hill. And who knew what other side projects the man had been running before that goverment agency took him into custody? Following up on a lead one night, Jim and Harvey stumble upon something that might make them seriously doubt their grasp on reality... some things are just too damn weird, right?Wrong.Or: I went for one of the rarest AUs, drowned it in graphic dark fantasy horror, plot and cuteness and hoped for the best.





	1. The aftermath of Indian Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> So again, this is a story I've been working on for a while. Don't know what the hell I'm thinking to be posting it parallel to my other story, but there you go, folks, strange things happen sometimes. Will post fairly regulary. Once you've made it through the horror in this fic, expect a lot of fluff and the plot possibly degrading into sugary nothingless...
> 
> By the way, I know my titles aren't especially great, but I think the actual story is a lot better than the title... well. I hope so, at least. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, please feel free to leave a comment and/or chat! Kudos are also deeply appreciated.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Gotham had to be one of the rainiest cities on the planet, at least going by the amount of cloud cover it endured throughout the year. 

That day, torrents of rain fell out of the dark grey sky. Rich and poor alike miserably clutched their umbrellas and coats to themselves. Some skipped away from the puddles gathering on the uneven pavements, but the cold and the wet crawled into their shoes and the bottoms of their trousers nonetheless. 

That was Gotham for you: It always got you, one way or another, even if you hadn’t forgotten your umbrella for a change. 

At the precinct, Jim looked up from his desk when he saw Harvey step through the large entranceway to the side of the bullpen. The older detective’s hat and coat were looking more dilapidated than usual, probably because they were soaked through. Harvey sneezed once, loudly and messily. 

Letting out a never-ending string of colorful curses, he peeled himself out of his coat and shook out his dripping hat while Jim studied his partner, the light of the desk lamp catching the blue of his eyes and the faint worry line between them. Still cursing up a streak to make even someone like Alvarez blush, Harvey climbed the flight of stairs leading to their twin desks on the small balcony over viewing the main bullpen. Even Harv’s leather shoes made small squelching sounds, and now Jim was starting to feel sorry for his bedraggled partner, and a little guilty. Especially as he had sort of sent him out in the first place. 

“Hey,” Jim said. “You look… uh…,” 

“Seriously, Jim, I know,” Harvey growled, coming to stand behind his swivel chair. He looked at it pensively for a moment, then at his wet coat. “This city, I swear…,”

“So? How did it work out, then?” 

Jim couldn’t refrain from getting to the point immediately. It was too important. 

Harvey sneezed again, gave Jim a mild glare and hung up his sodden coat near the heating. “Well…,” he said, turning around. 

“Jeez, I feel like a drowned rat, weather out there is giving me the chills.” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. Before Jim knew it, Harvey had snuck his arm right across Jim’s table and snagged his still steaming coffee mug. 

“Thanks, Jimbo…,” he drawled. “You’re a real pal.”

A fond, slightly exasperated look passed through Gordon’s face as Harvey wrapped his cold hands around the mug and took a big slurp. 

“Ha! So much better.” Harvey smacked his lips appreciatively and sat down his chair. 

“Yeah, yeah. That was mine, actually. Can’t you get your own?” Jim snarked. The only mildly put-upon tone suggested he was more at ease with his partner’s antics than he wanted to openly admit to. 

Harvey smiled knowingly. “No.” he said simply, slurping the coffee. He chuckled when it was Jim’s turn to glare at him. 

“Anyhow, know what, Putz? Even through it’s like an underwater city out there, that tip wasn’t a complete waste of time. The guy who owned the warehouse and runs his business a few blocks over from it did confirm some of our suspicions.” 

Harvey struggled to get a slightly damp document out of the inner pocket of his blazer and pushed it into Jim’s hands.  
“Check out the copy of the leasing contract.”

Jim scanned the document quickly, interest peaked. Some of the ink was smudged by the rain, but he decided to save his breath and not start berating Harvey again about how to handle evidence. 

No one had seemed interested in building a case against Hugo Strange after the fiasco of Indian Hill.

The official reason for this was that the eccentric scientist had been whisked away by some government agency, and so the whole thing had been taken out of the GCPD’s hands. However, Jim Gordon simply wasn’t willing to accept that it was truly over with Dr. Strange. That person was one of the most dangerous men he had had the unfortunate luck to meet so far. It was all very well he wasn’t walking around free, the young detective supposed, but who knew how for how long that was going to last once the snake managed to strike another deal? 

The egocentric, depraved Dr. Strange would find a way to wiggle out of his current predicament yet again. And then he would probably go back to his mad projects, his unethical and gruesome experiments. Where would that leave Gotham, the City they had sworn to protect and serve? 

Neither Harvey nor Jim thought it wise to wait that one out, not after the horrors Jim had encountered while he was a full time Bounty Hunter. 

It was completely unknown how many more projects Hugo Strange might have been involved with over the years, or if he had more laboratories somewhere, just waiting for his return. The detectives knew they had to check how bad it really was behind the scenes after Hugo’s disappearance. They had to find out what they could before it all started up again, before another Pinehurst or Indian Hill dug its hooks in too deep. Jim feared there could even be others, other scientists, continuing Strange’s work without him. 

Admittedly, there was some personal satisfaction in the idea of shutting down absolutely everything Strange had ever been involved with. Jim didn’t want to call it revenge. There were more than enough good reasons outside Jim’s personal suffering to destroy Strange’s tapestry of evil. 

That fateful day, when everything had come to a head at Arkham Asylum, Strange had gotten under Jim’s skin and into his head. Looking back, Jim definitely did not appreciate the gesture, and there was no way he could forget or forgive any of it. The power Strange had wielded over the detective during the drug-induced hypnosis had been frankly frightening. At the time, Jim remembered feeling freed from his guilt. How he had felt almost light-headed with the sheer relief of it as he sped down south to Lee in Harvey’s car. The detective could well recall honestly hoping that there might be a positive outcome if he could only find Lee and beg for a second chance. 

God, he had been a complete and utter fool. 

When Jim had finally, finally tracked Lee down to a nice house in the suburbs, had bought a new suit and flowers for the dubious occasion of the most heart wrenching apology he could mentally prepare himself for, and had risked a glance through the window pane into the suave interior, that’s precisely when his heart had shattered, again. 

After he had seen Lee looking so happy with another man, laughing with him in that sunlit house, white picket fence outside, Jim hadn’t known how to feel. He had felt happy, a little perhaps, because he loved her and wanted her to be happy. But he had also felt sick to his stomach, confused, downright miserable and hopelessly angry, all at the same time. That moment had been torture, Jim unable to even ring the damn doorbell as he stood there, frozen for five unbearable minutes on the porch before turning tail. He had realized then he was a coward, a coward who couldn’t use his words, too broken and twisted to trust himself he had any chance to win his woman back from the handsome man inside. Worse, Jim had realized that he hadn’t even been himself when he made the decision to come down south in the first place. 

Hugo Strange taking away his guilt had caused him more grief than good.  
He should have stayed in Gotham. 

At least he hadn’t rung that doorbell and dragged Lee into it all. At least he had tried to shoulder the mess alone, before it spread too far.  
Maybe he shouldn’t blame himself too much for what had happened with Lee, with their unborn baby, it was true and a part of Jim knew that. But eradicating the guilt, wiping it from his system as if he were a machine - that had been wrong, as well. Strange had played god on Gordon, literally, had twisted him up inside, confusing his sense of duty and making him naïve. 

Jim had known then he had been dreaming far too long of something that he had no right to any more. He shouldn’t have tried, and if Strange had left him in his right mind Jim would honestly never have done so. Lee deserved so much better than him, and being a good person she had obviously met someone who was good to her, as hard as it was for him to accept that he just couldn’t be that man. 

A few days later, Gordon had returned to Gotham, dejected, beyond cynical, donning completely black clothes for weeks. Being a Bounty Hunter had been a rough time, but he had enjoyed it, darkly, had deserved the self-sabotage of getting mangled by monsters that shouldn’t exist. Jeez, it had taken him a long time to get back on track and trust his instincts again. Now he was back at the precinct, again reinstated as a detective and wearing the shield. 

And he needed to take Strange down, badly. 

It wasn’t likely that they would be able to find much against Strange, but Jim had to try and had convinced Harvey to help him. It hadn’t taken much convincing, actually. Harvey was on his side, most of the time at least. 

However, Gotham being the city it was they had enough cases already, without following up a cold case like this, especially unofficially. 

This was why Jim had stayed behind at the precinct, writing reports – he was much faster than Harvey, anyway – Jim basically covering their bases at work, while Harvey had gone out in the rain to check a lead on another case and on his way back had followed up on the tip of the warehouse owner.

“The warehouse was rented out to a certain Mr. V. Negrast about a year ago…,” Jim read out quietly from the damp leasing document. He squinted at the name and frowned thoughtfully. 

“Sloppy work for Strange. An acronym, really?” 

Harvey shrugged. He continued to slurp Jim’s coffee, brushing back his thick, damp hair before it felt into his eyes. 

“He might not have expected the GCPD to follow up on his mysterious side projects quite so diligently. After all, He hadn’t met you then, Jimbo. I’m sure he was used to a more… let’s say, lackadaisical attitude.” Harvey smiled haphazardly. 

Jim huffed. “Maybe you have a point there.” 

“Also…” – Harvey let his voice fall until it was barely above whisper – “I doubt he ever expected the Court of Owls to be massacred, or their protection of his identity to fall away and people start to blab…,” 

Jim glanced around the precinct before answering. 

“True enough, Harv,” he whispered back. “But I don’t think we should mention them around here, or anywhere in Gotham. You can’t know for sure all of them even died.” 

Harvey hummed. “Guess that’s wise… just not sure if it’s also paranoid or not. Jim, we’re sitting at our desks at the GCPD, for crying out loud.”

“A bit of paranoia may be useful, when dealing with these people,” Jim commented. “I don’t trust them. Never did.” 

His partner hummed again. “If paranoid is a secret code for “not being reckless”, I’m all for it, Jim.”

Harvey leaned forward. 

“So, I got the spare key to the place. The owner was pissed enough at Mr. Negrast for not paying the rent these past four months and was just about to evict him, but he was kinda scared to enter. Had seen some weird goings-on at night sometimes, he said, and he was clever enough not to want any part in it. It wasn’t hard to convince him that we needed a nice look-see first.” He held up the silver key, faintly smirking in triumph. 

Jim’s eyes widened. He snapped the case file closed, rising to stand. 

“Harvey, why didn’t you say so before?” Gordon was springing into action like a wound-up toy. “This could be a breakthrough in getting back at Strange!”

He checked his gun holster and shrugged into his coat in less than twenty seconds. When Harvey didn’t move from his seat, Jim stopped what he was doing and quirked an impatient eyebrow. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” 

“Jim…,” Harvey whined out. “Come on, man…,” 

“Don’t be like that,” Jim said, placing his hands on his hips. “This is important.”

Harvey held up a hand. 

“Yeah. Stop. I’m only asking you to hold your horses for a few hours, Jim, ‘kay? That warehouse is still there tomorrow, and it’s been a long day, you know?” Harvey said. “I didn’t mean let’s go there right now, after dark, without back-up, in the pouring rain.”

Jim shook his head and snorted. “This can’t wait. If we want any chance in securing evidence against Strange, we need to go. The one time he slips up we have to be there. We need to go to that warehouse, right NOW.” 

Harvey pouted as he gestured at himself imploringly. 

“But… it’s freaking pouring out there! And I’m already damp through…,” 

Jim leaned forward, one hand on Harvey’s desk. 

“If you’re soaked already, does it matter? Come on. No one’s scared of a little rain.” 

The smirk on his face made Harvey roll his eyes at the ceiling. Jim was dead set on this. Oh well, his mistake for mentioning the key. 

“For Pete’s sake, fine! You have no respect for your fellow officers, you know that?” Harvey groused, finally rising from his seat. 

Jim’s face was solemn, but his eyes had a teasing quality as he countered: “Show me an officer who deserves respect, and I might just surprise you.” 

Now it was Harvey’s turn to glare. “Damn Boy Scout…,”

Jim tilted his head at him and gave a small chuckle. 

After a moment, he pressed a strong hand briefly against Harvey’s shoulder. 

“Please, Harv? For me?” he said, all big blue eyes. 

Fucking bastard, Harvey thought to himself. 

Every time. Every damn time you let Jim get to you. You must be growing soft. 

After a final pout, Harvey chugged back the last of Jim’s coffee.

“Yeah, so, whatever…,”

Jim smiled at him gratefully. 

Cursing, this time grabbing an umbrella, Harvey followed Jim out of the precinct and into the rain.

Someone had to look out for the Boy Scout before he got himself into another mess, Harvey told himself.


	2. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Harvey investigate the warehouse. It doesn't work out very well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to issue some WARNINGS about this chapter. It's very graphic and there is a strong element of horror here. Maybe don't read this in the middle of the night unless you can handle it. Also, warnings for non-con medical stuff happening and obviously, quite a lot of suffering (Jim Whump). If you make it through this chapter, you'll have managed to endure the worst of the horror! Then we can rapidly progress towards fluff...! 
> 
> Typos and general weirdness are all my own ;-). I apologize for any inconvenience! 
> 
> Also, if I may point this out: Writing may seem easy to the Reader, but believe me, a great and wonderful a hobby as it may be, writing is kinda hard, for me at least. Hope you enjoy and if you do, let me know! I live for kudos and comments! ;-)

The warehouse was small, nondescript, and white-washed. 

It perched on a wharf at the far end of a line of similar warehouses. The water of Gotham’s trading harbor lapped at the cement pillar structure beneath it, passing trawlers and massive freight ships churning it up till it turned frothy and murky. 

While Harvey sneezed and hurriedly put up his umbrella, wincing in discomfort, Jim looked down at the waves. He let his eyes wander up under the lip of his own umbrella, over the city skyline across the water, the flickering lights in people’s homes. 

_Gotham looked cleaner from here_ , he mused. 

It was still raining, although the downpour had let up compared to earlier. Also, it was more than a little cold. 

“You seem to enjoy being uncomfortable,” Harvey said in a conversational tone, flipping up the collar of his sodden coat for protection. 

“I’m just used to worse,” Jim muttered absently, eying the warehouse warily.

The two detectives traded a look over the top of Harvey’s car before. They had parked it quite some distance away from the wharf, behind massive mooring pillions and metal containers. 

“Jim, are you sure?” Harvey said, nodding at the warehouse. 

Only one lonely lamp at the end of the wharf cast some light on the hulking construction, illuminating a portion of the white-washed wall and a formidable metal door. 

“No? Don’t have much of a choice, though,” Jim replied firmly. “He could move this base within hours if he knew about the leak. Then we would have nothing but straws once again.” 

Harvey nodded tiredly. 

Slowly, they neared the warehouse, keeping a close lookout for guards or cameras. Nothing. Everything seemed unnaturally calm. They hid the umbrellas in the darkness beside the door. Jim fingered the silver key and - after a brief second of hesitation - turned it in the lock.

Before it finally clicked open, he locked eyes with his partner. 

“Eyes open…,” Jim warned softly. 

Harvey tipped his hat to Jim and pulled his gun. “I’m ready.” 

Jim opened the door, turned on his flashlight and entered the adjourning room first, heavy Glock and flashlight aimed ahead in a standard stance. 

Although they had a certain right to be there, with the knowledge of the warehouse owner and using his key, the detectives knew this was a legal grey zone. But waiting to be able to do this through more official channels, like waiting for a search warrant against the tenant of the warehouse, might trigger too many alarms in the case of someone as well-connected and powerful as Hugo Strange, or even the government agency he might now be working for. They couldn’t risk waiting, but they needed to be careful how they proceeded beyond this point. 

Harvey and Jim had agreed to try and keep their entry as low-key as possible, and planned to only flick on the lights when they were fairly sure the system wasn’t rigged.

Of course, it was possible that they may have triggered a silent alarm solely by entering through the door, even with the key. Hopefully, it wasn’t so. 

The inside of the building didn’t look like a warehouse at all. 

One quick glance around told them that quite a lot of work had been put into fitting a complete inner structure into the unobtrusive outer shell. 

Directly after they stepped through the door, they were greeted by a small room tiled from floor to ceiling in pristine white. It was empty except for a wash basin and several white lab coats as well as heavy gloves and transparent goggles hanging from hooks on the wall. As they silently crossed the room, a closed, white door became visible at the end of it. A heavy plastic curtain was drawn in front of the door. The air felt like it was being filtered. A faint smell of antiseptic lingered. 

Harvey swallowed, eying the door with caution, while Jim stepped forward and methodically scanned the whole room with the small flashlight. Gordon noted a fan slowly turning behind some white meshing let into the ceiling, but nothing else of interest. 

“No obvious surveillance cameras,” he whispered to Harvey, who nodded. “Lucky break?” 

Jim frowned, searching the room again with narrowed eyes. “Doubt it.” 

Perhaps the cameras were hidden. There was nothing they could do about it now, either they were being filmed – or not, if they had indeed caught a lucky break.  
He moved the curtain to the side and opened the white door, keeping his body to the side of and out of range as he quickly shone his flashlight into the structure behind, taking in as many details as possible. 

All Jim could see through the door by the light of the flashlight was a dark, empty corridor. The walls, floor and ceiling of said corridor seemed to be made out of plastic and metal rings, parts of the warehouse visible through the semitransparent foliage. Gently, Jim closed the door again and looked at Harvey, mouth a grim line. 

“Corridor. Couldn’t see much.”

Harvey frowned and rubbed his neck.

“I dunno, Jim. This place is giving me a bad feeling. And I mean, _bad_. As in dangerous and fucking creepy.” 

Jim’s face appeared faintly strained in the glow of the flashlight. 

“Agreed. But if Strange hasn’t moved everything incriminating out of here already, he or someone else will do so soon.”

Harvey squared his shoulders and shot another wary glance at the closed door. 

“Forgive an old man for not wanting to charge in blind. You have no idea what’s in there. It could be anything. Think of Indian Hill. If this is his secret back-up or something…,” 

“It’s not ideal. Nothing is, in this city.” 

Jim’s eyes looked black in the gloom as he stepped up to Harvey and stubbornly set his jaw.  
“We can’t let this slide, not this time. You’ve got my back, haven’t you?” 

Harvey couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Jim’s arm.

“ _Of course_! Dammit Jim, you _know_ I’ve always got your back! It’s just - ,” Harvey stopped and sighed in defeat under the unwavering stare. 

“Lead on, then. Let’s go to our deaths.” 

Jim gave him a brief, cynical grin and turned back to open the door. 

Flashlights and their weapons constantly at the ready, the two of them walked down the tunnel in single file, the plastic sheeting making small crinkling sounds under the soles. Through the tunnel’s walls, shapes like crates and machinery could be imagined in the warehouse beyond, but it was simply too damn dark to be sure. Even when they tried to shine their flashlights through the plastic to be able to see more, most of the light was reflected back. 

Carefully, they continued, ignoring a mutual feeling of foreboding. 

The tunnel was quite long. 

Harvey thought that they must have crossed at least half the length of the warehouse before the tunnel branched upwards sharply, following a short flight of stairs, equally made out of plastic. 

Another white door in a huge wall, with another plastic curtain drawn across it, waited at the end of those stairs. 

Harvey wrinkled his nose and felt a cold chill pass through his body as he caught the smell that seemed to be permeating through the white door. It stank of death and decay. The atmosphere was made all the more cloying by the overlaying stench of antiseptic. That he was still damn wet from the rain wasn’t helping him feel buoyant, either. 

“Oh, _jeez_ …,” he whispered. “I don’t like these vibes, Jim.”

Harvey felt himself start to gag a little at that horrific stink, but regained control, swallowing the bile down harshly. 

Jim looked back over his shoulder at him. His face had gone quite pale in a matter of seconds. 

“I-I’m going in,” Jim stammered, trying to ignore the tightness in his own chest. He took a few breaths through his open mouth, trying to avoid breathing through his nose. 

The gloom and the cold had been bad enough on their own, but the smell coming from behind that door made the atmosphere positively oppressive. 

Harvey’s pulse spiked when Jim opened the white door, but apart from the smell becoming stronger, nothing happened for the moment. 

Determined, Jim disappeared through the door. Harvey followed quickly, the creepy corridor falling back into total darkness behind him.

He pulled the white door closed behind him upon entering and barely stopped himself from shouting in alarm when suddenly a loud, mechanical hum cut through the stinking gloom. 

Tensely searching for the source of the noise, they identified it as a system of revolving fans, again let into the ceiling behind meshing. They stood there a minute, tense, only relaxing slightly when the system shut itself off again. 

With the help of the flashlights, they made out a very large room, walls once again covered from floor to ceiling in white tiles. It was clearly a laboratory of some kind. Mapping out the room as quickly as possible and finding no other doors or exits, Harvey stepped up to one wall and after a warning glance at Jim, flicked the light switch with the tip of a finger. 

“Showtime.”

The harsh white light was blinding. 

Harvey had to blink a few times before he could stand it and take in his surroundings properly, switching off his flashlight. Jim was tense, looking around the laboratory, blue eyes troubled and stormy as they passed over the water tanks located along one of the long tiled walls. 

None of the large tanks were empty, although it was almost impossible to guess what exactly had been in them. 

Each tank had a kind of computer screen attached to it on the outside, perhaps a kind of control panel, but these were all dark. All systems except the ventilation system seemed to be turned off, as if the lab had been deserted for a while. Inside the murky tanks, the bodies of what appeared to be different kinds of sea creatures could be seen in various states of decomposition, flesh and scales trailing in the stale water. Some carcasses were small and could have belonged to a type of fish or sea snake; others were easily as big as a horse. 

The whole lab smelt of death. 

Harvey couldn’t bear to look too closely after he thought he identified the carcass of a dolphin at the bottom of one of the tanks, plastic tubing sticking out of the side of its body and the dark rotting flesh already peeling away from the white bones peeping beneath. It made him feel like he would lose his last meal any minute now, knowing the poor creature must have been alive for whatever horrible procedure Strange had subjected it to. 

“God have mercy…,” Harvey commented, absolutely disgusted. Jim nodded grimly, looking a little pale and drawn. 

Bullock took a steadying breath and stepped away from the tanks, deciding to check out the desks and lab tables on the other side of the room while Jim stayed near the tanks.  
Jim wasn’t faring much better than Harvey, stomach roiling, but bit his lip and forced himself to stare into each and every tank and at each and every body. He wanted to remember what a kind of man – no, what a human monster - Strange really was. He wanted to be able to think back to the horror of this situation, this place, when he stared into Hugo Strange’s eyes, watch him beg while the police cuffed him and took him away to be locked up for the rest of his life. No more deals for that guy. Gordon felt obliged as a good police officer to ignore his personal comfort completely, as he peered into the tanks, something he knew Harvey considered one of his reckless traits. Nothing should go unturned in this lab, if it could lead to legal action against Hugo Strange.

The last tank of the room was the largest, the glass covered from the inside in scratch marks and what looked dents with fine cracks leading out from the centre in a circle, as if something massive had been striking the extremely think glass with considerable force. 

Jim hesitated. Following a gut feeling, he carefully traced the scratch marks with his hand. His heart clenched when he noticed the scratch marks were spaced just like the nails of his own hand were. He wasn’t sure he had been trained well enough for this kind of horror. 

The detective he took a shaky breath as he turned to eye the corpse in the furthest corner of tank. It was curled in on itself, severely decomposed. Jim closed his eyes briefly in horror or maybe silent prayer when he caught sight of something white that looked uncannily similar to a human hand. But that didn’t make any sense… hadn’t he also seen scales in there? 

He forced himself to look again, feeling the fine hairs on his neck begin to rise. Perhaps there had been more than a human being in there, also something … fishy? The longer Jim stared, the more unsure he felt . What was he was seeing? Why did the legs of the corpse seem so… _wrong_? And where did the greenish scales come in to the picture? Was this – _had this_ – been one of Strange’s human experiments? It had once been alive enough to try and get out of the tank, even after the procedure.  
Thoroughly nauseated by the scientist’s ruthlessness and cruelty, Jim had to look away from the thing inside the tank. 

He noticed a small sign on the side of the tank written by hand in a flowing script that read: **“Test Subject 05, formula 113a40-B. Cellular mutation speed accelerates dramatically after the first onset. Constant water contact necessary for beta testing! H.S.”**

“Harvey,” Jim said, waving his partner over. “Take a look at this.” 

Harvey made a face, reluctant, but came over anyway. “One of Strange’s Test Subjects?” he said slowly after reading the sign and glancing at the contents of the tank with a shudder. “Jesus. I wouldn’t have thought that thing is even human.” 

Gordon looked on grimly, fingers retracing the scratch marks. “I know. It looks… partly human at best. Was this a side line of Strange’s work? It must have been about something other than bringing people back from the dead.”

Harvey shrugged, face disgusted. “Whatever he was doing, it was _definitely_ illegal.”

Jim stared at the sign again. “This… experiment… it reminds me of Strange’s early work, before Indian Hill. Like that poor girl with this monstrous bird claw. Back when Strange went by “The Philosopher” and ran this facility under the cover of Wayne Enterprises. Remember I told you about it?”

Harvey ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, Pinewood. It does seem similar. Somehow melding humans and animals, or whatever that sick fuck wanted to achieve. I really don’t like the description “cellular mutation”, Jim. It makes my skin crawl. Can we leave this place?”

“In a minute. I want to look for this formula,” Jim said, tapping the sign briefly. He turned away and started opening up the cabinets in the lab. 

Harvey just stared at his partner. “Jim - do you really think it’s a good idea to go _looking_ for this stuff? We aren’t the CDC or something.” 

Jim gave him an irritated look over his shoulder and continued his search. 

“We can’t leave it here, or anything else that potentially dangerous, either. What if I’m right and someone comes here to clean up after Strange? If we don’t secure some actual evidence now and keep these formulas from getting back into the hands of the Court or whoever comes after them, we might not get –,“ 

Jim abruptly cut off when they both heard a loud, ominous _clang_. 

They both looked at each other, wide-eyed, silently drawing their weapons again in unison.

That had been the slam of the metal door of the warehouse. 

Someone else was here.

Silently, Jim signed for Harvey to take cover. He then snuck up behind the door and killed the light, plunging the room into darkness again. _Perhaps they could arrest someone yet_ , Jim thought as he pressed himself back against the wall, gun cocked. When he heard footsteps on the other side of the white door, he held his breath. 

The door opened abruptly, clanging against the wall. Immediately, the fan system came on once more, clearly an automatic precaution every time the door opened. The mechanical humming masked all sounds in the room. Jim bit his lip in the darkness, trying to judge whether the person had entered the room or not. He hesitated, feeling his heart pounding with adrenaline, then flicked the light switch on impulse. The lights flickered back to life, but it was already too late. 

Jim didn’t have time to blink or utter a sound when a strong fist connected directly with his stomach, another blow following behind. He felt the force of the punches push the air from his lungs, but managed to hold onto his Glock with one hand while bringing up his other arm for protection, staggering back into the room to get out of range of the assailant. 

In front of him stood a tall, wiry man, wearing one of the lab coats, gloves and googles over otherwise normal clothes. His expression was outraged and borderline murderous as he stared back at Jim. “What the hell are you doing here?!” he shouted. He held an evil-looking syringe gun in one hand. In the all but two seconds they stared at each other, Gordon tried to notice as many details as he could about the man – his short brown hair, his large hands, the weak chin – 

“GCPD!” Jim pressed out, training his Glock on the man as he regained his breath and keeping the strange syringe gun in his line of sight. “Sir, I want you to stay where you are, hands on your head –,“

If Jim thought the man had any common sense, he was proven wrong. 

The man glared at him. Then he surged forward with an angry cry, taking Jim aback how fast he could move if he only wanted to, one arm smacking his gun arm to the side and then grabbing on to Gordon by the lapels of his jacket. Again, Jim managed to hold on to his Glock, but the shot racketed off at an angle, hitting one of the tanks. 

The horrific contents gushed out onto the floor in a flood of water. At the same time, Jim felt himself being lifted off the ground effortlessly, the man holding him with just one hand. How could the man have so much strength? He struggled in mid-air, taking another shot although he was still off balance and therefore missed completely. Then, he was being thrown against the wall, the back of his head connecting with it with a resounding crack. Momentarily numb and seeing black dots in his vision, Jim lost the grip on the Glock, gasping as he saw it clatter to the floor and out of reach. The man laughed and to Jim’s horror brought up the syringe gun as he struggled against him. At that moment, a shot whizzed past both of them, embedding itself in the wall. The man continued to hold Jim in a vise-like grip and turned his head to stare angrily at the other detective in the room. 

“GCPD. That was just a warning shot, you fucker.” Harvey’s voice hollered over from the background, angry and clipped. He slowly advanced towards them, gun trained on the man’s head. “Now let go of my partner and get down on your hands and knees.”

The man laughed again, unimpressed, then brought up the syringe gun and took a shot at Harvey over the countertops between them. Harvey ducked out of sight with a curse as a small dart-like thing from the syringe gun narrowly missed him and struck some surface with a ping. Jim heard something breaking in the background and more cursing. He was still struggling in the man’s grasp. When the man suddenly removed his hold on him from one instant to the next, he felt his legs buckling. Jim let himself fall, managing to use the momentum for a smooth half-roll onto his hands and knees. He was just about to scramble away to get to his discarded gun when the man grasped his ankle. He felt a brief flare of pain in his leg and growled. Gordon already knew what had happened before he could snap his head back to see the man pulling the dart out of his leg, the contents emptied into him. 

To Jim’s dismay, the strong sedative spread through him quickly, slowing him down and fogging up his already throbbing head in seconds. He felt his body go numb and legs giving way as they lost all feeling. His mind was screaming at him, but then he had already collapsed onto the floor with a gasp, hardly managing to break his fall with his arms. He felt himself being kicked in the stomach and groaned, unable to curl in on himself for protection. Jim heard several shots and crashing noises next, unable to notice details as he felt he was close to blacking out. The tiles against his cheek were cold... he jerked in horror when he opened his eyes and was looking straight at one of the hideous skeletons that had fallen to the floor out of the cracked tank, it’s half rotten eye sockets staring straight back at him. 

Another shot rang out, loud and faintly echo-y in the ghastly laboratory, and Jim noticed the scientist give a hiss of pain. He had been hit somewhere. Good. Perhaps now, they could overwhelm him – or not him, but Harvey. 

“You seriously think that’s going to make me stop? I’ll show you what it means to trespass into a private lab!” the man roared, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He suddenly pulled a revolver from a pocket of the lab coat, and trained it on Harvey. 

“We’re not trespassing; the owner has asked us to check out the premises, you bastard. Now put down your weapons and cooperate, or I _will_ shoot you!” Harvey roared back, an edge of worry in his angry voice as he tried to catch sight of Jim from across the room, but no luck. “Jim?” Harvey called out, gun trained likewise on the madman, and was relieved to hear a faint moan in reply, somewhere between the desks and the filing cabinets. 

_Jim was alive. It was going to be alright…_ Harvey thought, letting his sweaty palms grip his weapon tighter. 

The mad scientist and the older detective glared at each other angrily for a second, trying to gauge each other’s weaknesses. The man was a nutjob, obviously, but he was fast as a snake in the grass too. He faked to the side, then shot at Harvey’s gun hand, making him drop his weapon and stinging his hand. It was an unnaturally accurate shot, something only a professional like Zsasz might be able to pull off, and Harvey dived behind another desk, wide-eyed and scrambling as he felt the blood well out between the fingers of his right hand. Fuck. This really wasn’t going well. 

“I don’t think you’re a good enough shot to keep that promise, especially with your hand like that!” The man barked out, then winched and cursed softly as more blood flowed out of the wound in his shoulder.  
Next thing, the man stumbled over to one of the unopened cabinets, revealing a hidden fridge with a glass door. Blueish and greenish liquids in small vials were stacked up neatly in rows. After a brief search – the man knew what he was doing, Jim thought in a mixture of morbid fascination and anxiety, helpless as he was on the floor – he laughed briefly and snatched one of the blueish vials from the bottom row, rounding back on Jim with a cold glare.

“So, where were we?” Ah, yes…,”

The man bent down and grabbed Gordon by the neck of his tie, half hauling him off the floor and shoving him back against a metal cabinet as he struggled weakly, vision blurry. He couldn’t hold himself straight in that firm hold, wheezing as the weight of his own body against the tie narrowed down his air supply. With an effort and a spark of anger, he tried to direct his gaze upwards, blinking rapidly to be able to focus. 

“You’re going to drink this, and wish you were never born.” The man rasped. “If you’re interested to know, I revised this formula myself. 113a40-C. Very special. I’m sure you’re not going to enjoy the trip, but it would be a thrill to us if you survived it. Dr. Strange was of the opinion there could be nothing worse for you than to be turned into a test subject, _Mr. Gordon_.”

So the man knew exactly who he was. That could only be bad news. Jim managed to glare at the man in defiance, clamping his mouth shut in desperation although the drug was pulling him under more and more and the fight was draining out of him far too fast. He knew what Strange was capable of, and the sight of the bluish liquid was making his heart hammer in his chest. There had to something he could do, some kind of escape route…

“You’re keeping your hands off him!” he heard Harvey holler from somewhere. His voice seemed closer than before, but if the man was quick Harvey wasn’t going to get to him in time. 

The man may have thought the same, because he arched an eyebrow, glancing towards the back of the room, then hit Jim’s head once against the cabinet, cruel and fast, making him see stars. Jim tried not to gasp in pain and keep his mouth closed, but combined with the near suffocation he was suffering from it was simply impossible. He gasped, drawing in some air, and felt the liquid being poured down his throat unceremoniously, his jaw being held open. The man then pinched his nose closed, the other hand clenching his mouth closed. Still struggling but receiving no air, Jim had no choice but to swallow the stuff down, feeling real fear grip him as he did so.

_No. Oh god, no._

When the man finally released him he sank against the cabinet, coughing and spluttering as the world flickered in and out around him. The man in the lab coat smiled, holding him pinned in place half sitting against the cabinet. 

Jim felt the liquid burn like fire all the way down to his stomach, white-hot like it was melting straight through his insides. It was so horribly painful that for a moment he forgot to breathe entirely. Although he was still fighting to control his breathing, the ringing pain overwhelmed even the panic of suffocation for a moment. Belatedly, he drew in a shaky breath and couldn’t stop the gasps of pain when that seemed to make the liquid fire raging inside of him even worse. 

Gordon felt his body break out into a sweat and start shaking profusely. The only thing preventing him from sliding back to the floor in a shaking heap was the strong hand of the scientist still pinning him to the cabinet. He was leering at him, clearly enjoying what he was seeing. Jim groaned, trying to pull away but failing. He felt a hand grab his chin, forcing him to stare blearily up at the madman who had done who knew _what_ to him. 

The man shook him by the chin, grinning, and all he could do was tremble and stare at him, unable to speak. He whimpered again as another wave of heat and pain rippled through his body, closing his eyes and wishing it could be over. He was too drained to open his eyes as he felt a finger nail trace down his cheek, but felt himself shudder in revulsion. 

“Look at that. A survivor.” he heard the man muse, voice faint as if he was very far away. The man finally let him go and watched as Jim slumped to the floor with a cry of pain. 

“You could see it this way.” The man laughed down at him, “If you need proof what Mr. Strange can do, just look to yourself in future. You won’t need to meddle in any more things that don’t concern you, detective.”

The man stepped over to another part of the room, and Jim heard some strange mechanical clicks, then a recorded voice saying: “Emergency System enabled. Please select detonation time.” 

_That_ didn’t sound good at all. Jim could barely put any coherent thoughts together, still shaking and groaning in pain against the floor, but _detonation_ was a rather final thing. Where the hell was Harvey? 

The man came past him again, then suddenly paused. He then seemed to reach some conclusion. Grabbing Jim, he hoisted him up and threw him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing.  
“I think I’ll just give you one more nudge, just to make sure you live. Suffer _well_ , Detective!” 

There was a whooshing noise, like an air-pressured door being opened, and then the ground was opening up under him. It revealed a round tunnel mouth, like a well, leading straight down. Jim blinked, hardly grasping what was happening but scrambling to hold onto the man, but the man threw him off, and he was falling down the well, the lights of the lab disappearing – 

Jim cried out in pain as he hit the water surface hard, then felt himself sinking down into the black deep of the harbor. Water immediately lodged in his clothes and made him feel twice as heavy. Gordon tried to kick off his jacket and his shoes in sluggish movements, only succeeding with sheer luck. He knew he had to somehow swim, but his body was already tired out and it hurt so much. He was disorientated, couldn’t see any light, and felt himself twisting underwater, desperately trying to figure out where was up and where was down before his breath finally ran out. The strain on his lungs quickly became too much. Jim gave a final twist, panicked, then opened his mouth in a silent scream. He felt water rushing into his lungs, choking him, and the pain was _incredible_ \- 

He was dying. 

But… it wasn’t the end. 

A tingling ran through his body, then he felt himself spasm. The white-hot fire inside him was rekindling, a burning feeling behind his ears searing through his flesh. Jim shrieked in agony as he felt something _splinter_ deep inside him, barely registering that he was somehow still alive - _and breathing_ -underwater. The pain was unbearable, stopping all coherent thought. 

The next few minutes were a haze of torture. He couldn’t know how long it went on for, but to Jim it felt like forever, an endless nightmare of pain and darkness and snippets of parts his body being broken and remolding itself into a new shape. He gasped, feeling cold water rush through his lungs. His hips and legs seemed to only be made out of agony, and he felt the vibrations in his throat as he shrieked himself hoarse underwater. He felt bones being broken and the sickening way his muscles were being torn and remolded and… his feet spreading and _lengthening_. His clothes were being torn apart with the extreme changes racing through his writhing body, the very cellular structure being remade. Jim felt his back arch, the sensation in his spine making no sense at all. He was unable to do anything but hope for an end to the torture. But the pain went on and on, pure violence become manifest in his body.

He was dead, he should be dead, _and he wanted to be dead, please – please!!!_

Something large, another body, crashed past him in the darkness of the water, struggling and kicking around wildly. Jim wasn’t sure, but a flash of Harvey’s face passed through his mind. 

Then a sudden bright light swelled above him, like a burning ball of fire, the heat licking against his face even as he felt the harbor floor beneath him. In the light of the explosion above him, he made out huge amounts of debris was falling down through the water as if in slow motion, glass and metal and bones and twisted things. Jim went through all of it half-aware, held in the grasp of pain, now catching glimpses of himself, nightmarish visions. 

Finally, there was nothing left. 

Jim gave a sigh of relief as the pain receded, then blacked out when he hit the harbor floor.


	3. When did we fall through the looking glass?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing. Dramatically. But alive is alive, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks for giving this story a try! (Maybe I should say: Welcome back to wonderland?)  
> If you've made it through chapter two, I think you've passed the worst of the horror. The next chapters will be a wild mix of angst, general stupidity (on my part, maybe also on the boy's part, they can be most stubborn) and... very soon, cuddling and comforting. 
> 
> I'm aware this fic is a little - okay, maybe a little too much??? - out of the ordinary, so because of this I'm even more nervous about it. Drop me a line and tell me what you think, if you have the time. If you don't, a kudo goes a long way ;-).  
> Don't be fooled by the frankly harrowing speed that I'm currently posting at - I will not be able to keep up posting daily, but I will keep up posting regularly! Of course, all mistakes and typos are my very own. The boys, unfortunately, are not. Please don't sue me.  
> Incidentally, I'm thrilled that just this once, Rich Text Formatting worked out. Through the looking glass, indeed.  
> And, adorned with a nervous grin, here comes the next chapter... *hides*

Harvey had had to jump down the chute after Jim when he heard the countdown, narrowly avoiding more bullets and darts.  

In the chaos, he wasn’t sure what had happened to the mad scientist. He hadn’t had much time to leave the building.  The timer had been down to 01.30 minutes when Harvey scrammed. He didn’t care about him, currently, apart from hoping whatever end he met, let it be painful. The man had probably just found a way to kill his partner for real.

He hadn’t seen much of Jim before the man threw him down the chute, but the glimpses Harvey had managed to get had told him how very serious Jim’s condition was.

Jim had been scared, pale and sweaty, unable to keep down the moans of pain, and that wasn’t something to be taken lightly by Harvey, who witnessed Jim spring into dangerous situations almost on a damn daily basis and not even flinch. And then there was the hair-raising issue of _cellular_ _mutation_ and the guy taunting Jim he _needn’t_ _look_ _elsewhere_ _anymore_ to see what Dr. Strange and his associates from hell could do – as if Harvey or Jim needed any more reminders of that, having had close contact with enough monsters from Indian Hill.

The water hurt on impact.

The chill of it knocked most of the air out of his lungs as he sank down into the murky depths beneath the wharf.

It was dark. Harvey struggled to get his bearings. His arms and legs flailed around wildly, trying to prevent him from sinking even further down as he managed to kick off his shoes.

He was still quite close to the surface when the explosion went off above him.

The intensity of it was shocking.  Waves of heat and light blinded and disorientated him still further as he fought to hold his breath. Harvey felt things painfully hitting his body as they fell through the water. With strength he didn’t know he could muster he instinctively tried to dive away, further and _deeper_ in a crazed attempt to escape the debris.

He couldn’t see Jim anywhere.

Utter panic built as his lungs started to burn.

Harvey wondered for a split second what he was trying to do.

They weren’t going to survive this. Jim had to be dead already.

Just as he thought he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he saw a flash of almost luminous blue somewhere below him.

He stared, twisting in the water, but it was already gone. Harvey managed to keep it together a little longer. Muscles screaming in protest and lungs on fire, he continued swimming to the side, trying to put distance between himself and the warehouse before it collapsed into the sea beneath it.

He hoped the direction he was swimming in was at least _up_ , hoped that he could swim out from under the wharf and maybe find a ladder, or _something_ to haul himself out of the frigid water.

He wasn’t going to make it in time.

Weighed down in his clothing, even sans the shoes he had already lost, the detective was too slow and too weak.  Any moment now he would probably drown.

Harvey couldn’t stop thinking about Jim, even now, when he felt the cold water start to leech the very life from his bones. Even when his strokes started getting heavier and harder, all he could think about was how he had failed Jim, finally _hadn’t_ managed to pull him back to safety.

Harvey would never see Jim smile again, never catch the fond shine in his eyes even as he frowned at him. He would never find out if they could have ever been more than best buddies. His strength was gone. The burning feeling in his lungs became overwhelming, and his eyes were slipping closed.

Close to blacking out, Harvey felt resignation kick in.

Truly, he never thought that’s how he’d go out: Drowning in Gotham Harbor.

But then, from out of nowhere, strong arms cradled him.

The arms hooked under his armpits, embracing his chest from behind. They held on very tight, pulling at his heavy, waterlogged body. Somebody was swimming upwards with him.

The detective could still hardly see anything. He didn’t really know if his eyes were still shut with exhaustion or if it was simply that dark. But he felt the press of a body against his back and the way both of them moved through the water, _upwards,_ hopefully, to safety.

Harvey felt it when his head breached the surface. He sucked in a loud, coughing lungful of air, hissing and spluttering as the choppy little waves and the harsh cold wind of Gotham Harbor smacked him in the face. Silently, he sent a prayer of thanks.

He took several deeps breaths, ignoring the stench of smoke in the heavy air.  Blearily, he made out the skyline of Gotham in all its dark glory before him, the lapping dark waves all around. The wharf was to the side of him, several hundred yards away, the now smoldering warehouse a burning mess of rubble, thick clouds of smoke trailing off into the night.

As fate would have it, now that the warehouse was burning down, the pouring rain had stopped in time for the blaze. Go figure.

About then, Harvey realized he was maybe not exactly drowning any longer, but he was still freezing cold, wet and hurt. However, by some divine intervention, he was alive. And those strong arms were still wrapped around him, adorned in what looked like a slashed and dirtied blue dress shirt.

It couldn’t be.

He had seen him go down. He had been underwater minutes longer than Harvey. There was no way he could have survived!

He tried to turn around in the water, even though his limbs felt like jelly, but the arms tightened around him.

The person behind him gave several nasty, gurgling coughs. Finally, the person spoke up in a severely strained voice.

“A-Are you ok?”

Harvey wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart stopped beating.

“ _Jim?!_ ” he exclaimed, trying again to turn around. “Oh, my god!”

Jim finally let go of his partner, coughing weakly.

Harvey turned und almost dropped under the surface again as he struggled to stay afloat and swim while pulling Jim into an awkward and lopsided bear hug.

It was Jim Gordon, alright, inexplicably alive.

Gordon coughed again, eyes closed and half-hidden under the strands of his wet, disheveled hair.

 _“Oh my god!_ Y-you son of a bitch! _How the_ _hell_ did you - you’re still alive!” Harvey cried out in giddy relief and clutched him tight. “I thought you were dead!”

“H-Harvey…,” Jim croaked out hoarsely. 

He sounded _rough_ , really rough, as if he had swallowed sheets of sandpaper.

In the darkness and with his mounting exhaustion and shivering, Harvey could hardly make out much of Jim’s face or expression, but when Jim met his eyes he recognized that flash of blue from before.

Jim’s eyes were still that dark, ocean blue. But in the black of the night surrounding them, they now shone out like two soft blue lamps, strangely luminous, like some shy deep-sea creature. They bathed the surrounding water in a faint pool of light and made the man look terribly pale.

Harvey sucked in a breath and couldn’t help himself from instinctively caressing Jim’s cheek with cold fingers, a hard knot of simmering dread and worry for Jim settling in his stomach.

“Jim, buddy… your _eyes_ … w-what’s happened to you?”

Jim looked pinched and hollow as he stared back at Harvey, The Boy Scout quickly broke their eye contact, the light in his eyes dimming as he looked away and across the bay.

“I… don’t know…,” he whispered. “Please, we have no time.”

Harvey felt Jim’s arm come circling round his waist again, carefully stabilizing him as he tried to stay afloat.  Harvey noticed he was panting with effort already, energy all but spent in the frigid water. Wherever Jim was taking this show of strength from, he was the one holding them both upright. Harvey had no idea how he was doing it. Jim had to be kicking like mad with his own legs.

“I have to get you out of here… can’t think with you like this,” Jim murmured distractedly, turning his head this way and that as he tried to take in the situation on the wharf.

Far away, Harvey thought he could hear sirens, but whether it was police, the ambulance or the firefighters, he couldn’t tell yet.

“What do you m– we’re _both_ fucking well getting out of here!”  Harvey said loudly, incredulous.

Jim ignored him, doggedly pulling him along through the dark water parallel to the wharf.

“You’re freezing, Harv…,” he said.

It was true.

The coldness of the water was wearing down the small shot of adrenaline Harvey had felt on seeing Jim alive. He was hurting all over and tried his best to keep up something similar to swimming, kicking his legs frantically. _He could still die here_ , Harvey thought, from hypothermia alone….

Secretly, he marveled at how Jim could manage to stay afloat after what had just transpired in the lab, yet alone pull along Harvey’s bulk as well as his own. Also with that kind of speed, through water this cold. 

Jim huffed, changing course and hauling Harvey closer to the side of the wharf. They were now several hundred yards down from the still burning remains of the building. Huge cement pillars towered around them, supporting the wharf above.

“There! The ladder, can you reach it?” Jim croaked out. He sounded as exhausted as Harvey, even though his prowess so far had been bordering on superhuman.

Harvey tried to blink the salt water of Gotham Harbor out of his eyes, screwing them up to see better in the gloom. With effort, he could make out a long, rusty ladder that connected to one of the pillars of the wharf. The end of it hung a good three feet above the current water line.

“Y-yeah. But I’ll n-n-never make it...,”

“Just try and grab hold of it,” Jim urged.

Harvey nodded.

Unfortunately, the lowest rung was almost out of his reach and covered in a slick kind of slime. He tried to jump up to seek purchase, but his fingers slipped off. Panting, Harvey tried again. It was real hard work to haul your body weight up out of the water when you were bone-tired and your teeth were chattering.

“Jim, I-I…I can’t,”

Again, Jim’s arms came around him, gripping him.

“ _No_. You are not dying here tonight!” 

With a groan, Jim tightened his grip and tried to heave Harvey upwards. “Go!!!”

Gordon pushed him upwards in a rush. Harvey grabbed hold of the lowest rung with desperate, shaking hands as Jim fell back into the water with an audible splash and another groan.

The older detective shivered, hauling himself up the ladder with the very last strength he could find within. His whole body was trembling with exhaustion and cold when he managed to snag the lowest rung with one foot. Water ran off him in streams of murky water.

With a panting groan, he clutched the filthy rungs tightly and looked back. Jim looked up at him with those newly-luminous blue eyes, expression extremely tense. Only his head, shoulders and the top of his soaked dress shirt were visible above the water line.

“C-come on, you must get out of there too,” Harvey pressed out through chattering teeth.

Jim’s face cracked, just for a second.

 “You climb up, first,” was all he said. The mask was back in place so quickly that Harvey thought he had imagined that deeply distraught look.

Harvey snorted with irritation and continued up, sighing with relief when he pushed himself over the side of the wharf and came to his knees. Solid ground, he was so thankful he felt like sobbing in relief.

Harvey blearily looked up and registered the flashing lights ahead – at least one ambulance and one fire truck, by the looks of it. He peered back down the ladder at Jim, who still hadn’t moved. It was disconcerting, the way his eyes cast a pale glow over his drawn face as the water lapped around him.

Jim glanced at the flashing lights, as well.

“J-J-Jim?” Harvey stammered, reaching down an arm. “Your t-turn…,”

“I’m sorry,” Jim said, not moving closer to the ladder.

Harvey must have misheard. “P-please, J-Jim. Y-you need medical a-attention. What that man made y-you s-swallow…,”

His unease intensified when he saw Jim slowly shake his head with a pained expression.

“Harv. I can’t come out.” The faintest trembling lint in Jim’s voice rooted Harvey to the spot.

“W-what?!”

“I- I’m sorry, but I –, “                              

 Jim didn’t finish the sentence. He pressed his eyes closed, face falling back into darkness as he did so. His next whisper almost failed to reach Harvey’s straining ears.

“I don’t think I’m human anymore. Not really.”

When Jim opened his glowing eyes again, they looked wet, next to overflowing.

“I – I _can’t_. I just wanted you to be safe. But I – I have to go now. Please Harv, try and understand… I just can’t be around anyone like – like this!” Jim’s voice was close to breaking point. The man shivered and gave a half-choked sob. Before Harvey could say anything, jaw slack with shock and frozen in place, Jim was already backing away from the ladder rapidly.

“ _Jim_ , d-don’t you dare! _Come back here!_ ” Harvey managed to bark out.

Jim wasn’t planning on coming out of the water, and now he was _leaving_.

“ _J-Jim?!_ What the fuck!!”

Jim sent him one last, lingering glance. Then he was taking long strokes with his arms, away from the wharf and the safety of solid ground.

“WAIT!!!” Harvey shouted out at the top his lungs. The near-shriek made the heads of some first responders turn further up the wharf. People started to run towards him.

Harvey was numb to it. He didn’t care for any help.

He sat there, numbly staring at Jim, his partner, _his best friend_ , swimming away into the darkness.

Jim stopped as if he felt the crushing weight of Harvey’s gaze. Harvey could hardly see more than his outline, but Gordon seemed to turn towards him, two faint points of blue light revealing he was looking back in his direction.

A timeless moment happened, when all thought and action stopped.

A collective breath, held.

Before the whole world turned on its head, forever.

Way out in the harbor, Jim seemed to steel himself for something. And dived down.

Harvey couldn’t be sure, but he _thought_ he saw something impossible.

As he dived down, a scaled tail followed Jim’s torso into the water, all in one long, graceful arch.

The man disappeared entirely under the surface, an elegant tail fin dipping out of sight last.  

Harvey sat back in total shock, gob smacked. His mind was totally blank.

“ _Jesus Fucking Christ_ …,”

His head hurt as he tried to understand _what_ he had just seen. He ignored the shivers of cold running through his drenched body, or the rapid footsteps of people running towards him growing louder.  

Had they turned Jim into a goddamned _fish_? No… not a fish, a – _what,_ _exactly_?

Harvey was still sitting there, vacantly staring out at the dark and uncaring for his own wellbeing when several people caught up to him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around anything anymore and it was hard to focus on the people talking to him, urging him to speak.

This wasn’t happening.

This was simply too much, even for Gotham.

What the hell could he do for his partner right now? How could Jim attempt to deal with this acid trip nightmare on his own? Jim didn’t want to pull him into this new, insane mess, Harvey got that. He was playing the hero, even now, when they had _turned_ him into – _whatever_ he now was. But, tough shit… he didn’t get to decide that without him! He couldn’t _do_ this to Harvey. That wasn’t how their partnership, their friendship worked! They needed each other. He needed Jim to be okay, and whole, and sane.  But _this_ … this was so, so crazy.

Harvey felt the panic start to settle in. He should be doing something sensible, _something_ to help Jim. But he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do.

Could he even _grasp_ what Jim was going through right now?

Finally, a voice cut through to him.

“Sir?”

A young woman was leaning down and trying to catch his eye, a paramedic by the looks of it. She was so clearly worried about him as he sat there, wide-eyed, mute and shivering, that Harvey almost felt guilty about it.

“Sir, are you hurt? Can you tell us what happened here?”

Harvey blinked and looked at her.

“GCPD, Detective Bullock…,”

His voice sounded strange, like a recorded message.

 “I’m fine…,”

The woman kneeled down and shone a light into his eye. “We’ll see about that, sir.”

She took in his bleeding hand from when he had been nicked by the shot, his dripping clothing and his half-frozen appearance. Harvey sighed, following her disapproving frown.

“O-okay, yeah. The h-h- hand isn’t as bad as it looks, just nicked a little. Otherwise, it’s bruising, I g-g-guess.”

Harvey sneezed, teeth starting to chatter like castanets.

The paramedic turned slightly. “Dan! Bring the kit – and some blankets!” she shouted out to her colleague in the background. “And hurry!”

“The water is d-d-damned c-cold, ma’am,” he added, a little defensively. He didn’t want to talk about himself. He needed a plan what to do about _Jim_ …

The woman looked him over, feeling the clammy cold skin on his hand and forehead.

“That’s bad enough, Detective. You’re blue in the face. I’m worried you’re on the verge of hypothermia.” Annoyed, she looked over her shoulder again. “Hurry!”

“But…!” Harvey begged. “I can’t go yet – I n-n-need to stay here!”

He quailed a little under the paramedic’s determined gaze. “Sir. You’re going to hospital. Right. The fuck. NOW. Understand?”

Harvey nodded numbly, not feeling strong enough to start grappling with her just because she was so set on saving his worthless hide. 

He felt intensely grateful, truth be told, when another paramedic urged him to take off his shirt and wrapped a warmed blanket around him tightly, keeping out some of the cold. Perhaps it was good, the way the lady paramedic’s hand in the small of his back steered him towards the flashing lights of the waiting ambulance, not letting him linger at the water’s edge a minute longer.  He would start looking for Jim all over again, given half a chance.

He felt so awful about leaving him like this, though.

“My partner and I were following up a lead in that warehouse, but we were attacked by a man and he detonated a freaking bomb in there… my partner… he’s…,” Harvey stopped talking, noticing how much he was shivering.

Thank god, they had reached the ambulance by now. He was steered to lie down on the gurney, more blankets and several of those golden crinkly golden foil blankets being piled on top of him and wrapped around his icy socked feet. Harvey didn’t know how to continue his sentence, almost forgetting it until the woman shook him.

“Sir? Sir, stay with me. What about your partner? Do you know where he is?”

 Harvey decided then he wasn’t going to tell anyone about Jim, not yet and certainly not like this.

What would be the point? No one would believe it, anyway. No one would help.

“My partner was injured, nothing major. He… left, was close on the tail of the guy, had to leave me behind as I was slowing him down and he saw the cavalry arriving…,” he lied as the woman stared back at him, taking his blood pressure.

“Uh-huh…,” she said, looking disapproving again. “He just – _left_ you like this?”

“He saved me first! He had no choice!” Harvey growled, instinctively defending Jim’s honor.

 “Alright… we’re taking you to hospital now, Detective. Just to be on the safe side, okay? I don’t like some of these readings.”

“Okay… if you have to… ,” Harvey said lamely, not able to think of a moderately sane excuse why he would prefer to spend the rest of the night on the cold wharf, staring at the waves like a lunatic.

The ambulance doors closed.

Harvey was sped off to hospital, shivering, while Jim was lost at sea.

 

 


	4. Will you be my breath in the deep Water?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again <3,  
> thank you for sticking around!  
> This chapter starts in immediate succession to the events in chapter 4, and we get to see the boys reunite. Things are looking up, maybe… BUT, first please be aware of MASSIVE WARNINGS FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, DEEP DEPRESSION, ANGST and a somewhat difficult conversation where Harvey basically talks Jim into choosing life ((… and maybe also him, eventually?))  
> I'm sorry for the dark elements here, but I can't avoid them if I want to dive in to their vulnerabilities... believe me, this fic will lighten up soon <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, life is difficult at the moment, but I'm not going to let ridiculous hurdles deter me from continuing to write…! Still, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting! At least this chapter is really long, like +6K words (How did that happen?!). Sorry about the formatting… I'm too tired to correct it right now.  
> UPDATE: Final edit completed 09/05/2019. 
> 
> Remember I love to chat over the comments and hear what you think! Kudos are greatly appreciated, as always. It's nice to know if people care! <3

Once his best friend had dragged himself onto solid ground and relative safety, and Jim saw the lights of the first responders approaching, he knew he had to leave. There was nothing further he could do for Harvey or himself, not in his condition.

There was nothing he could even say.

His heart a cold clump of flesh in his chest, he dived, tail following him into the deep. Painfully, he choked out the last remnants of air. They rose up through the waters in glistening bubbles as he descended. The flesh behind his ears reopened into small fine lines as his lungs prepared to switch, then cold water was rushing through his gills and down his throat. Breathing water felt… unnatural.

After the dive, he drifted. The horror of what had happened physically weighed him down. He sank, like a stone, until he hit the hard sea bed. It was murky down there, and he should have been definitely more bothered about the cold, but somehow, he didn’t notice it. Perhaps he just didn’t care. Jim was so leaden he didn’t know what else he was feeling, but the muscles in his chest felt tightly drawn, like a coiled spring waiting to snap beneath the water pressure. His hands were shaking… and it was so dark.

Strange’s associate had accomplished his task: Turned him into a nightmarish creature, a freak of nature. Now Jim looked like the monster he already knew he was, and the entire world would be able to see it, should he ever show himself again. There was no going back, and right then, Jim couldn’t see a path forward for himself, either. The former detective lay there at rock bottom and made him himself small, wishing he would wake up.

The mad scientist had just damned him to living in exile, and he would never see anyone he loved again… not unless he chose to endanger them and himself… and he couldn’t do that. He refused to do that.

Jim pressed his eyes closed as a cloying, intense self-hatred rose up inside.

So what if he was alone? He was despicable, a hideous monster that deserved to die, after all he had done. A monster that deserved to die alone.

It was true: Everything he touched broke apart. He had tried to do the right thing… why, he asked himself, when all he received for that was suffering, spite and the loss of the most important people in his life? Why did his righteousness throw such a long shadow of pain?  
Now, after so much loss before, Jim had lost his best friend. It was probable that Harvey was his only real friend and family left to him on this earth, and he had just turned away from him as if the man meant nothing to him, nothing at all. He desperately wanted to wake up… or another way for all this suffering to end.

A long, hard road for you, Jim Gordon…

It hadn’t been easy to turn away from Harvey like that. But Jim couldn’t bear to put this terrible burden upon anyone else but himself. He had to forget his own feelings, this vise around his heart. Those sensations were less important than ensuring his friend’s safety and preventing further disaster by being caught. Jim’s eyes burned.  
He really hadn’t thought much of his own safety, he just didn’t want anyone to suffer for the fact that he had been fundamentally… changed. Jim couldn’t have decided differently. Surely, Harvey would understand the urgency, that there hadn’t been time to process, or for explanations?

Worse, there hadn’t been time for goodbyes. That was the real kicker to him.

Jim’s hands hardened into fists as his heart throbbed painfully. He had never been good with goodbyes, but if he had a choice, he would still prefer to have the chance, not hold on to the unsaid forever, leaden drapes in his soul.

Jim had wanted to escape the water at Harvey’s side, had he still been human and whole. But that hadn’t been an option, because he wasn’t human. He was a monster.

Wallowing in burning self-hatred, now joined by deep embitterment, despair and self-pity, Gordon allowed himself a half sob, down there in the deep, where no one would see him cry.

He clenched his teeth and sobbed a little louder into the crook of his shoulder, body aching, as he suddenly remembered the windscreen shattering and the shrieks of metal all those years ago.

The blood of his father running down his tiny hands as he tried to stop it, and the futility of trying…

But everything he touched…didn’t he know it?

_…glass shattering…_

_…bombs exploding in the war…_

_…Barbara, falling from his grasp in her wedding dress… eyes so sad and so insane…_

_…Lee, pregnant and sobbing, reaching through the bars as he turned away_ …

... _Harvey, tears in his eyes when he told him that Lee had lost their child…_

_…the horrible Dr. Strange, taunting and prodding, in his head… red numbers ticking down and down…_

_…his partner’s shriek of emotional anguish just now before he dived down… he had done that, too._

_It was all him, his damn fault...! His responsibility!!!_

So much suffering. And all of it, everything, had been _broken_ by his touch.

He should be _dead_ … it would be atonement for his sins, the just revenge.

This mess... it also was his fault. Because he was stupid... reckless.

He could have listened to Harvey at the precinct. Maybe it hadn’t been necessary to investigate the warehouse tonight, the urgency to the task all in his own head. Maybe, if he had been faster, fought better, been more resourceful, things wouldn’t have ended in total ruin, evidence lost, a man possibly dead and Harvey hurt. He was a walking disaster zone, wasn’t he? Harvey had paid enough for Jim’s stubbornness in the past, and surely, when Jim had just let himself be turned into a monster, he had to somehow draw the line and show some responsibility… save Harvey the unbearable pain of being at his side...

Yes. It was right to be alone.

That was what he _deserved_.

Jim couldn’t really process, not anymore. But, to his secret despair, survival instinct forced him to stay functioning.

Dreading what he would see, the detective sat up a little and forced himself to look... _down_.

_Oh...god._

Yes. It was still attached to him, the _horrible_ thing. Breathing unsteadily, he surveyed his new body, wiping away at the hotness dripping from his burning eyes into the cold sea.

He had a fish tail instead of legs. His eyes had to be different too, the way Harvey had reacted to them. Whatever was going on with his eyes, he could see quite well in the dark, lighting up a small area as he peered around. His eyes had to have a kind of bioluminescence, he guessed. Fucking weird...

God, this was all so damn disturbing. He sighed out a stream of bubbles, tired and spent.

A damned tail… how was _that_ to be his new reality?

He wasn't gonna think... about what _else_ had apparently disappeared... along with his legs.

The tail... okay, yes, _think about tail_...

The way the thing moved was utterly alien to Jim. Sinews and muscles under the scales felt fundamentally changed. When he swam, he didn’t kick out anymore. Instead, his body moved in one long, sinuous wave. He hadn’t tested himself how far or how fast he could go, but if even one rolling thrust was enough to propel him forwards for a quite a distance with ease, then the tail had considerable power. The scales dimly reflected the pale glow his eyes cast, just making it all the more surreal.

Accepting this was a part of him now bordered on the strictly impossible. Jim’s involuntary shivers of revulsion carried down through his body and made his tail twitch in the grainy sand.

He was… _he was_ … no, he refused to even _think_ it!

It wasn't real. It couldn't be...!

_But he knew it was real... that was true horror, for sure..._

When he had woken up on the harbor floor, he had thought he had gone raving mad. After having thrashed around in confusion and horror, the fearful realization struck that he wasn’t being attacked by a deep-sea creature… no, he _was_ that creature. It had been one of the worst moments in his life, not that he hadn't had enough terrible moments to  choose from, before.

The swimming movement had come naturally as soon as he gotten over the initial numbing shock of his reality.

That had disturbed him as well, the idea he had some foreign muscle memory on top of everything.

He remembered that only moments later, he had noticed Harvey thrashing and struggling for air several feet above him. The rest was history.

Although he was a strong swimmer, Jim knew he wouldn’t have had a fighting chance left if he had still been human. Both of them would have drowned. The transformation had made it possible for Jim to save Harvey’s life, and his own worthless one.

He didn’t know what to think about the fact that he was trapped in a body that _shouldn’t be his_.

At least from the chest upwards, he'd not changed, _thank god_.

Well, except that he must have gills, or something, behind his ears, like a freak... and glowing eyes...

But below his navel, the… darn... unnatural... _scales_ … began, until the clusters gave way to a full-on, massive _tail_.

Even with the glow of his eyes, colors couldn’t be more than guessed in the murk.

His tail was easily five, possibly six feet long from his navel to the very tip. The large fin at the end was large and powerful-looking. Twisting around, Jim saw a small dorsal fin following the line of his back, starting about where his knees had used to be.

 _Shit._ This was real. _This was really happening to him._

_He was a… a… mermaid? No, the male version… he was a merman?!_

_What the fuck._

Jim gurgled out a low growl of frustration, a string of bubbles floating upwards as he did so.

God, _no_.

No. He couldn't deal with this. Hugo Strange had won... he'd turned him into a _freakish, nightmarish creature_.

He couldn’t think about all this… it would drive him insane.

The former human detective felt so tired, so _hurt_. Everything just _hurt_...body still getting used to it's new form, he supposed, darkly.

_His new form..._

This was wrong. _It had to end._

But... even though he knew he should do it, he couldn’t put an end to his misery just yet.

His mind circled back to the crazed hope that he was dreaming all this. If only he could wake up.

The bare nothingness of the harbor floor was grating, and the underlying current pulled at his body uncomfortably. Jim sighed and eyed the support structure of the wharf as he felt a childish need for protection surface.

_Safety._

Part of the wharf was severely damaged by the blast, debris now settled and metal rods and broken concrete hanging into open space. Most of the wharf was intact though, as the warehouse had been at its very end. The merman looked over to the latticework of supporting pillars, standing in the murk. Tiredly, Jim observed the construction for a moment.

He needed something to hold on to...

Jim swam up to one of the smaller pillars and followed it upwards through the water till he reached a point that seemed halfway between the surface and the sea-bed.

With some concentration, first circling the thick pillar with his arms, he found that he was able to wrap his strong but supple tail right around the pillar twice. The tail fin ended up above his head, the membrane pressing against the side of his neck and face. Clinging to the pillar felt better than just staying on the harbor floor with darkness and open water on all sides. This way, he felt more anchored, at least, or less of a target, at worst.

It was unnecessary, this indulgence... he was as good as dead, anyway.

But.

He just felt... so _tired_.

The phantom pains of the transformation were still taking it out of his new form, but under it all there was a desperate need to sleep.

If he was being honest, he could have also done with something to eat and plenty of hard alcohol, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. He wondered if he could still digest human food. There wasn’t any way of knowing. Being turned into a damn merman wasn’t an exact science, or something he could ask anyone else about. But maybe he could at least sleep...

Resigned, Jim rested his head against the pillar and tried to relax. Even as jarringly tired as he was, it was hard to do anything more than doze.

The pillar didn't feel very safe, and the position was quite uncomfortable. But he didn't want to let go, either. It was a scary thought, being carried out of the Harbor by a current...

Every time a ship or heavy freighter passed by, way out in the deep channel, the ripples of movement in the water and the churning, metallic clanking sounds of engines caused him to jerk awake again, disorientated.

By the time the faintest change of the light hinted at the early hours of the next morning, Jim felt severely strung out.

He groaned when he tried to release the tail’s hold on the pillar and felt all the kinks along his lengthened spinal cord. Wearily, he stretched as much as he was able to, arching his back backwards till his body almost formed a half circle. That felt marginally better. Jim squinted upwards, trying to gauge the time of day, but the fact that he was still underwater, and that the constant cloud cover over Gotham City rarely allowed a glimpse of the sun, didn’t make anything easier. The merman blew out bubbles through his nose as he sighed.

Perhaps he should have a look around above.

Jim steeled himself as he broke through the shivering surface, his gills sealing closed against his neck. It wasn’t easy keeping his coughing down as his lungs struggled to breathe air and expel the water. Carefully, he peered around.

There were no boats around the wharf, it being in the seedier, run-down part of Gotham Harbor. Only the top half of his head as well as the tip of his dorsal fin and occasionally his tail fin broke the wind-beaten surface as Jim slowly swan down the length of the wharf. He kept a close look out for any people around and took in his whereabouts, mentally preparing himself to duck out of sight at any given time.

The _last_ thing he needed was for someone to see a merman in Gotham Harbor and alarm the press, or worse, any of the corrupt pharmaceutical firms – or even Strange himself. 

He shuddered when he thought about Hugo Strange, imagining the manical smile behind those pink glasses if he saw the former detective like this.

Jim knew he couldn’t stay there forever, at the scene of the crime, basically, but before he made a plan where he could even go, he wanted to feel calmer.

If only he could catch proper rest somewhere. But he didn’t want to leave the wharf. Not yet. He rounded the huge structure once, and then doubled back, his mind going blank as he swam slow laps around it.

His mind circled, going over the same things, again and again.

As he swam he stuck his arms out ahead for balance, hands folded over each other, making a spear shape.

His body fell into a natural rhythm that soothed him. Also, it was helping work out the painful kinks in his poor back.

It was a constant struggle to keep his thoughts neutral. Every time he caught sight of his own scales or felt the water washing over his tail fin, realization of what he was came crashing back.

_He was a merman._

God. Why? Why did it have to be something so…?!

He sighed mournfully.

Who was he even kidding here? He didn’t have a future, not anywhere. How could he have? Did he want to try and live like some kind of half-fish, the only one of his kind because he shouldn’t even exist? Did he want to stay a creature… stay alone... stay like _this_?

He should take care of this situation the only way that was right… he needed to find the strength and just _do it_.

But why was he still tethering on the edge? What was holding him back… from that nagging little impulse… in his head…

Jim’s thoughts were a _very_ dark labyrinth by the time he heard something come down the wharf above him.

It was unmistakably a car, it motor rattling and snarling as if it was on its last legs and really in need of a mechanic.

Jim ducked back under the wharf proper, pressing up against a pillar in the shaded darkness and dropping down till only his head was above the water line. He frowned, a thought drifting through his mind that the car sounded familiar.

The car stopped.

Jim heard the faint whine of the ancient brakes before the motor was killed. Then someone stepped out, heavy footsteps walking down the wharf. Jim stayed where he was: Perfectly still. He heard the footsteps go up and down several times, haltingly, as if the person was stopping frequently to look for something. Then the footsteps came back to the car.

Jim hunkered down against the pillar, his tail swishing below him.

The person was almost directly above him and it was unnerving him quite badly.

Finally, the person spoke, muttering a curse to himself under his breath.

“Dammit Jim, you son of a bitch. How am I supposed to find you now…,” a voice said, heavily laden with emotion.

Jim’s nails dug into the pillar structure as he barely repressed a sob.

Oh, god.

_Harvey._

He’d come back…he'd come back for him...

Jim tampered down his sudden urge to reveal himself.

 _No_. He wasn’t going to do it.

He would pull Harvey into this mess as soon as he showed himself, he knew it. He needed to wait this out, keep his focus, then he would be alone and could put an end to himself.

There was a long silence.

Jim thought he heard the clank of a bottle being set down none too gently on a hard surface, repeatedly, and the slosh of liquid in the quiet.

So, Harvey was getting drunk because of him.

 _Great._

Still no reason to pull him into this misery.

This was Jim's hell.

He had sworn to himself not to involve his friend in this… but, he seemed unable to move.

Jim felt caught there against his will, unable to reveal himself and unable to escape the pity party unfolding above him.

Harvey spoke up again, talking to the dark lapping water.

“I can’t deal with this. You gone – like _this_ – it’s just … _wrong_ , man. I can’t _even_ –, “ Harvey cut himself off abruptly.

Taking another swing of liquor, Jim supposed. He frowned at the dark water around him.

_Harv, no. Please don’t… not for me. Not for me._

The bottle cracked against the heavy wooden deck above Jim as Harvey put down the bottle.

“Jim, you self-righteous _idiot_. What the hell am I to do now? You think pushing me away will make it easier to deal with this nightmare – _fuck_. You know it doesn’t work like that. We were –, “- here Harvey’s breath hitched, then he corrected himself forcefully – “no, we fucking _are_ partners. I’m in this with you, whether you want me in it or not.”

It didn’t take much for Jim to imagine his partner looking over Gotham Harbor with tears in his eyes, always more the sad than the happy drunk, although he frequently pretended to be the latter.

Gordon felt his chest tighten and his frown deepen. Perhaps, if he said goodbye properly, then Harvey would be able to let him go? He felt too tired to deal with this. Meanwhile, Harvey seemed to be rambling on, occasionally muttering too low for Jim to catch all of what he was saying.

“I won’t believe you’re dead…do you hear me, you bastard? Y’HEAR ME?!” Harvey shouted out, a quiver of anger in his voice as he addressed the forlorn dark water.

The liquid in the bottle sloshed. Jim heard Harvey take another generous mouthful, not even gasping much.

“Jim… please. Please, man. You’re my best friend… and I-I…, Jim, I can’t let you go…and I shouldn't fucking have to. Not like this!,”

The merman closed his eyes and clutched the pillar, face crumpling.

_Harvey… please, I don’t have the strength when you talk like this…_

There it was. The naked truth in a nutshell.

Harvey wasn’t going to be able to let this lie, not truthfully, and probably not ever. Jim had tried not to further involve Harvey in this madness come to life, but it simply wasn’t working, because Harvey was stubborn.

Harvey's survival instinct seemed irrelevant when it came down to Jim. Even the fact that he had a fish tail and was never going to be able to live a normal life from now on seemed unable to deter the older detective, his partner and his best friend.

Maybe his friend could – someday - get over this whole thing if he knew for certain his friend was dead. If he knew beyond a doubt Jim Gordon was dead. But that wasn’t the case… and goddamn, but Jim couldn’t stand this pity party any longer!

Jim’s heart hammered against his ribs as he swam out from under the wharf and looked up. Harvey was holding his head in his hands and had closed his eyes.

He looked thoroughly miserable.

“Harv, I’m here,” Jim said, head and shoulders above the waterline while his tail swirled under him in the dark, stabilizing him.

Harvey looked up and froze as soon as he caught sight of Jim. He was sitting on a discarded crate, a Whiskey bottle in hand.

They stared at each other a moment, Harvey’s eyes traveling down Jim’s body, but not able to see much below Jim’s torso. The older man’s face studied him for a full minute before saying anything.

“You took your sweet time.”

“… had my reasons.”

There was a weird glint in Harvey’s eye as he set down the whiskey bottle harshly.

“Oh, yeah…?” he growled. “Well, fuck that. I also have my reasons. For coming back for you. Again.”

Jim cringed. “Harvey, please... look, I-I didn’t want to pull you into this nightmare...”

He gestured down at himself in disgust.

“I can’t be saved. Not like _this_. Didn’t want you to have to – to - , “

“- I know, Jim,” Harvey interrupted. “I hear you, I do. But that isn’t how this partnership works. You _know_ I can’t just walk away –, “

Jim gave him a grimace, eyes sad.

“Yeah. Starting to get that you'll always come back for me...,"

Harvey snorted. "Damn straight, I do. Hell I know why…,"

The newly-turned merman gave a sigh. "Harv…  I didn’t want to turn away like that… you know that, right? But, I couldn’t - I just... _couldn't._ ”

Harvey met his eyes for a moment, facial expression softening. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

He passed a hand over his eyes. 

“Buddy. I’m here because I’m not gonna let you spend the rest of your days in Gotham Harbor, of all places. There must be _something_ we can do…,”

Jim frowned. “Harvey, there's nothing we can do. I’m not even human anymore!”

Harvey pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. He leaned down and took another swing out of the bottle, grimacing.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Gordon swallowed. “Have you seen what the guy has done to me?”

“Yupp. Saw it,” his partner said, altogether too calm.

“… you saw it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do want me to say? You’re still you, aren't you?”

“It’s a fish tail, Harv!! You’re telling me you have a contingency plan for this?” Jim hissed.

“No, not yet…,”

“Yeah, because there isn't one!” Jim gestured down at himself again.

“Look, I appreciate you came back for me, but let's be real! Strange… he’s made me into one of his… and I can’t, Harv. I just… can’t.”

“You can. If anyone can find a way, then you can!” Harvey insisted gently. "Please don't give up this...,"

Jim wasn't at all convinced. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it was becoming that he shouldn't be avoiding the only solution he had.

“What about the other monsters? All of them were dangerous, unstable… w-what if _I_ -,” he began, feeling a spark of panic as he remembered the horrors he'd seen.

“Jim. They’re not you, okay? You’ll stay on the rails, I promise. I’ll help,” Harvey said, starting to look quite worried.

But Jim wasn't listening. More horrible memories flickered to life.

“I- I didn’t know what else to do about them. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought them into custody. Didn’t even care about the money much. But they couldn’t stay out there, on the streets, in hiding, a threat to citizens and to themselves… could they? And they couldn’t go anywhere else…,”

“Goddammit, Jim! Please stop talking like that, you’re worrying me!”

“...And then, do you know what I thought when I saw them being mistreated at the precinct…?” Jim barrled on, voice rising. “I realized my mistake. They were freaks, and society would never want them… would never understand them, and I had ruined their chances of finding a place for themselves…it was wrong, and we knew it!”

“Please…,” Harvey said, gripping the whiskey bottle. “I’m begging ya, brother. Don’t do this to me. Please, come to the ladder…,”

“No! Aren’t you listening? I can’t do that…,"

“Jim, you’re not a monster, no matter what you look like!”

“You don’t understand…,”

“I understand just fine. I heard what you said, about the menagerie you brought in. I’m sorry, but I don’t really care about them. But I care about you, Jim, I really do! Listen to me now. You’re not crazy, and you can fight this! You’re the strongest person I know!!”

“Tell me how I can fight this, Harvey! Tell me _how_!” Jim demanded.

“It’s a gut feeling, man. But I’m sure. You can fight this!”

“That’s not good enough…,”

“It has to be! Please. You aren’t in your right mind right now!”

“No. I _can’t_ come back from this, please, if you would just -,”

Now Harvey looked positively alarmed, as if he knew exactly what Jim was implying.

“NO. Don’t you _dare_ say it, Jim!!”

“…But, Harvey…,”

“You’re NOT leaving. You're _not_ -”

“I should though, and if you’d be thinking straight…,”

“Well maybe I’m a little drunk, Jim, but honestly, my priorities are clear! And by all that’s holy, man, you are NOT going to leave on some heroic bullshit whim of yours! I won’t fucking let you!”

Jim fell silent. After a moment, he raised his faintly glowing eyes.

“Look, you don’t owe me anything. Nothing. You don’t need to do this. You should think of yourself…,”

“Jim, don’t make me mad! This isn’t about _owing_ anyone anything! I _am_ thinking of myself. I can’t stand it when you talk like this… it breaks my heart…!”

“...keep getting in the way, and meddling things up, if you would just let me go…,”

“Are you freakin' _kidding_ me here?! You’re the one constantly trying to sort things out in this fuck-up of a City! You think I’m gonna let you just leave when you’re talking crazy?”

Jim growled in frustration. He began swimming a little further away from the wharf.

“All you need to do is let me go!!!” he hissed angrily. “Please... I can’t be like this! It’s irresponsible, Harv - it’s dangerous. _I’m dangerous!_ ”

“I’m not gonna let you leave!” Harvey spluttered. "Goddammit Jim, do you even know what your asking?!"

Jim swam a bit further out.

Groaning, Harvey came to his knees, then struggled to his feet.

“If you leave, Jim, then god help me, I’m jumping in there with you.”

Jim stopped, aghast.

“What? Y-you can’t!”

“I will. I don’t want to, but I will.”

Jim stared at him, eyes glistening.

“You’re the one talking crazy.”

“Oh Jimbo, don’t you get it? I’ve never been more serious in my miserable life!!”

“You can’t. It’s too cold…,” Jim protested, eyes widening in shock.

His partner stared him down, and his determined expression made Jim’s heart pound.

“ _Try me_ , Jim” Harvey growled. “I don’t _care_ what happens to me. I’m not losing you like this, got it? No matter the cost.”

“B-bastard.” Jim said, tone gone all wobbly. “You fucking bastard…,”

“I know. I’m one selfish, stubborn bastard,” Harvey said.

Jim rubbed over his face, irritated when he felt warm drops trickling down his cheeks.

“God… you’re stubborn, alright. And stupid.”

Harvey laughed. "Look who's talking...!" He straightened his jacket. "Now, just askin', are we gonna continue this therapy session, or will you finally let me get you out of there?”

Jim shot him a glare, still resistant.

“No, Jim, sorry. That look isn’t gonna work.” Harvey said slowly, almost smug.

He leaned forward, and something about the intensity of his gaze down at him made Jim’s breath hitch.

“I’m not going to turn my back on you, Jim, not _ever_. I’m not going to walk away. If I must, I’ll just sit here till morning comes and you’ve made your decision. And I'll make mine."

Jim blanced, staring right back.

“Harvey, you’re a good friend… the _best_ , but this is too much. This is far too much”

“I’m staying. Let’s not go over that again.”

“How… how is this... even going to work?” Jim pressed. “You realize I’m not exactly a land dweller any longer?”

“I do.”

Harvey's mind seemed made up.

“W-what if I can’t leave the water?”

“What if you can? Shouldn’t we at least _try_ and find that out, before we jump to conclusions? You’re a detective. Think, Jim, don’t assume.”

“Hmm,” Jim said, not really knowing what to say to that. “…guess you got me there.”

“We’ll find a way out of this mess. Haven't we always, in the end? Have a bit of faith, Jim.”

“Think your faith with have to be enough for both of us, at this point,” Jim said. “I don’t think I believe in anything anymore.”

Harvey’s sigh sounded disappointed. “Okay, Jim. That’s fine. I have enough faith for the both of us. And, for the record, I truly think you’ve been through worse.”

“You really think that.”

“Yeah. You’re alive, and not locked up, beaten, or bleeding out! That’s… it’s progress. Now, let me help you, brother.”

“… okay.”

“Really? Just “Okay?” After all that?”

“Yeah. I…,” Jim gave his friend an intense look, chin working.

Then he sighed, nodding slowly. “I guess we… could try. It’s not like I want to stay here…”

“Atta boy. Knew you had it in you,” Harvey said with a smile which Jim returned somewhat doubtfully.

“Where do you want to take me like this? You know I can’t even… well, walk.”

Harvey sighed. “Jim, I’m tired. Let’s just try and get you home to my place, into the bath, or something.”

Jim still looked doubtful. “This is never going to work, and you might get problems trying to keep me hidden. We need to think on this before we act… for once. You should go home, Harvey, get some rest. I promise I’ll be alright. We could talk more later – make a p-plan - , “

“NO. I am not leaving this heap of junk without you,” Harvey hissed, then corrected himself with a raised finger. "I mean, I’m certainly not leaving this heap of junk without you again. The EMT insisted on taking me to Gotham General, but they couldn’t hold me for long. And now we’re either leaving together - or I’ll just freeze to death quietly while we talk.”

Gordon snorted to hide his watery smile.

“Seriously, this is too freaking cold for comfort. Even with Whiskey.” Harvey said, a plaintive note in his voice now.

Jim sighed. “Alright...,” He peered around under the wharf, then along the construction. “There’s a ramp, or something, near the end of the wharf. We could try getting me out there.”

It was a tough job driving the car down the wharf, having to pass around the burnt-out remains of the warehouse. Harvey parked at the top of the ramp and waited. Soon enough, there was a splash as Jim’s head and shoulders breached the water. He started coughing and wheezing and Harvey felt alarmed until he realized Jim was heaving all the water out of his lungs before he could switch to air properly. Jim coughed one more time and passed a hand over his mouth as he met Harvey’s eyes.

“It hurts,” he informed him shortly. 

“Yeah… it’s okay, Jim.” Harvey said, keeping his voice calm. "It's gonna be okay."

Jim swam up to the waterline of the ramp until the water was too shallow, then attempted to pull his body forwards and out of the water with the strength of his arms. It only worked to half-beach himself, the tail below his dorsal fin beating around in the shallow water. He tried again, his arms protesting as he felt the weight of his tail on land. God, he was so heavy. Or his arms were just weak.

His tail flopped around in the shallow water, unable to help push him forward much. Jim gave a frustrated growl under his breath and looked at Harvey hurrying down the ramp. “The tail is damn heavy.”

Harvey came to a standstill next to Jim’s shoulders, the water lapping over his shoes as he rested his hands on his hips.

“God, Jim...,"

His eyes were round as he took in the long scaly tail swishing through the shallow water. It was somewhat dirty with grit and whatnot from the Harbor.

“Part of me thought I was hallucinating yesterday when I first saw it. It’s hard to believe... but jeez, it’s real.”

“It’s fucking real,” Jim ground out. “Wish it wasn’t so.”

“Like… a half-fish…,"

Jim sighed and tried to push himself forward again, only managing a few more inches out of the water. _“Yes.”_

Harvey smiled a little drunkenly. “You look like a mermaid, Jim. No, uh, what do you call them…?”

“You mean a merman…,” Jim supplied, with a brief glare in his direction, tail flopping helplessly.

“Yeah…” Harvey trailed off, looking at Jim closely and readjusting his hat. “So, uh. This is the weirdest crap I’ve ever seen. It’s even weirder than coming back from the dead.”

“Harvey…” Jim groused, making the older man look at him. “Concentrate on the present, here?"

“Sorry, sorry.” Harvey said apologetically, coming down onto one knee next to Jim to talk to him better. “I didn’t want to ogle at you… it’s just… unbelievable.”

Jim worked his jaw and stared down at his hands. “Yeah.”

_I know._

The cold cement of the ramp was rubbing uncomfortably against his scales, and the weight of the tail was hurting his lower back more than he wanted to think about. He could try and claw and wiggle himself further forward with the tail up the slope of the ramp, but otherwise he was thoroughly beached.

Jim was already hating that he had let himself be talked into this.

“So help me, goddammit!”

Harvey came closer. “Sure thing. Let’s get you outta here.”

“Don’t think I can do this on my own… but if you could hold the tail maybe I can drag myself forward…,” Jim suggested. 

He looked up the ramp and at the car parked at top of it. It wasn't going to be easy to crawl all the way up there.

“Sure, we could try that…,” Harvey winked, only earning a tired glare. “...think I have a better idea...,” he said. “Although it’s probably gonna break my poor back,” he added as an afterthought.

“Wh-,“ Jim started asking, but before he knew it, Harvey’s arm was slipping under his tail where his backside could be assumed. Jim lost his balance and fell against his strong frame with a yelp. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna carry you."

Jim flailed and twisted his body to accommodate the motion, arms gripping Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey grunted, his free arm wrapping firmly around the merman's back. With a loud groan, he hoisted Jim against his front, almost buckling from the weight as he struggled to a standing position on the slope. Jim seemed so much heavier to how he had been before.

Jim, on the other hand, practically _clung_ to Harvey’s shoulders as he felt himself being lifted up into the air, barely containing a pained groan of his own. His muscles were hurting all over and he was exhausted. His one arm snuck up Harvey’s shoulder and wrapped itself instinctively around the older man’s neck for more support. It was kind of frightening that Jim had no legs to walk on, and he really didn’t want to fall. Somehow, the Irishman seemed taller than usual when Jim looked down at the ground.

Harvey struggled forward with small steps, Jim in his arms, almost bridal-style. The lower part of Jim’s massive tail which wasn’t being held up by Harvey’s other arm trembled and flapped for a moment before slowly curling around one of Harvey’s calves, the tail fin hanging just above the ground. Jim sighed and leaned his head against Harvey’s chest as Harvey staggered up the ramp, trying not to trip over himself or the tail. Jim clung on for dear life. He felt the tips of his ears heating up a little as he breathed in Harvey’s scent through the shirt and jacket pressing against his nose.

A few seconds later, Harvey leaned Jim half against the car to take some of the weight off. Sweat was running down from beneath his hat, and he was breathing harshly. Jim scrambled to hold on to the car with one arm, trying to take more weight off his partner.

“Hell. You are heavy, man,” Harvey panted. “Can you get the car keys? Left inner pocket of the jacket.”

Jim slipped his hand inside the pocket and retrieved the keys.

“Great.” Harvey huffed. “Now I just need to get you inside the damn car.”

“Set me down, Harv. It’s fine!” Jim commanded, but Harvey only snorted and shook his head.

Jim twisted, and with some difficulty, managed to open the car door. Both men were swearing under their breaths when Harvey manuvered Jim onto the backseat at last. The younger man uncurled, scrambling to grab onto his tail fin before it fell out of the car again.

Heaving a breath, Harvey closed the door and gave Jim thumbs up through the car door window. He got into the driver’s seat and sighed. “That was an awful idea.”

Jim didn’t answer, but Harvey caught the half-smile in the review mirror. “Yeah, yeah…," Harvey said, starting the car. "Don't be a smartass."

“Don’t cause an accident," Jim said sternly. Troubled, he glanced at the bottle of Whiskey Harvey had thrown next to him on the other seat.

“Would never dream of it. You mistake my drinking stamina," Harvey said. “Sit tight and relax, alright? Are you okay?”

Jim ignored his own shiver of disgust as he felt along his damp scales.

“I’m okay,” he bit out, curling up as well as he could on the backseat.

It was early in the morning, before dawn, too early yet for the morning rush of workers. Harvey drove carefully down the half-deserted streets of the dark City they called home. Jim glanced out of the window, tense that anyone might catch a glimpse of him in the car.

But no one looked.

Even if they had, all they would have seen in the dark interior of the car would have been a man in a wet dress shirt peering back at them, hardly his scaly lower half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, I might add some song suggestions for the chapter, like now. I'm all for a more immersive experience!  
> I'm making no money from anything here, please don't sue me. 
> 
> American Authors - Deep Water (Viral)  
> Imagine Dragons - Birds


	5. Just wanna keep you safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> So I've been very excited about this chapter. We're slowly going in the direction of the tooth-rotting fluff and body worship tags <333... gosh, I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would like to gift this chapter to @TheFierceBeast. Some elements should hopefully be right up your street <333
> 
> If anyone likes what they're reading here, please let me know <333

Had anyone been watching from the inside of Harvey’s rustic little apartment on the fourth floor, they would have witnessed the following at about four am that Tuesday morning:

The scarred, dark brown door shuddering slightly as something seemingly solid and heavy slumped against the other side, along with a faint hiss from one voice and something resembling a determined growl from another voice.  Then, sounds of an almost-scuffle… the quiet patters of water drops against the ugly linoleum in the background. 

“Jim…, _fuck_ , my arms are gonna break!”

“Wait… I have to – _twist_ – dammit…,”

A protesting creak as a key grated in the lock. Then, the door flying open wide open with a shuddering jolt, revealing a most unlikely, otherworldly silhouette.

Luckily, no witnesses were around in that moment. They might have screamed - or maybe chuckled, shamefaced, caught between amusement and surprise, as two poor, extremely wet and dirty Homicide Detectives groaned in relief and proceeded to sag against the door frame.

“Never thought we’d make it up,” Jim said, sounding whacked, cradled in Harvey’s strong arms.

Arms that, even trembling as they were with the terrible strain of his full weight, simply _refused_ to drop him.

Jim squinted and coughed weakly. His eyes shone out in the gloominess of the hallway. He had given up fighting Harvey about carrying him, but it was still awkward, the feeling of the man’s arm up against the meat of his scaled ass and tail, the other arm supporting his back, protective.

His partner was crossing too many personal boundaries, even for them being best friends - _especially_ for them being best friends. But the merman knew he was helpless like this. He was a fish out of water, fucking literally. Harvey carrying him was the fastest way to get him to relative safety. 

His own arms had snaked around the other’s neck for support. Jim hung on desperately, clinging like lichen to a sturdy rock as Harvey crossed the threshold. A dark smudge of dirt ran across one of Jim’s clean shaven cheeks and right across his nose, making him look like a child that had had a play fight in the mud. The Boy Scout’s normally so incredibly well-maintained hair was plastered backwards in dripping, dark golden tassels. The huge, dirtied tail continued to drip onto the floor, curled over one of Harvey’s hips and around one his shins in loose circles of supple muscle, but even so the tail fin dragged against the floor. Jim was still in his dress shirt, ridiculously, after everything that had happened. Everything else – his badge, his gun, his _pants_ – were gone, probably destroyed, or lost forever in the deep.

“Aw, man!! We are never, I mean _never_ , d-doing this again, Jim…,” Harvey panted out and half-careened into his apartment, still not letting go of his slippery charge, slamming the apartment door closed.

“Yeah,” Jim groaned. “Please, would you just drop me!”

“ _Argh, no_ …!  I c-can make it to the bath,” Harvey declared in false bravado, dredging his last once of strength to cross the living room and looking a little like a man possessed. _Maybe the whiskey had given him super-human strength_ , Jim thought. _Stranger things had happened within the last few hours, after all._

“Harv, no. You’ve done enough!” Gordon tried to protest, anyway. He didn’t want Harvey to break his back, just for him.

“Shut _up_ , Jim. I said I’ve got you.”

Harvey was done, but trying his damnedest not to show it. 

His arms shook with the sheer overexertion of heaving a fully-grown, crazily mythological version of Jim Gordon out of his car and down the thankfully deserted hallways. The one elevator had been deemed too risky by both of them, and Harvey had given a strangled sob when he had subsequently faced four flights of the emergency staircase, Jim in his arms.

With a loud gasp, Harvey collapsed in a heap in the bathroom, Jim flinching in alarm as they went down together. Harvey landed half in the bath along with Jim, pinned beneath him. The merman gave a grunt of pain as his back and a part of his tail crashed against the emailed surface harshly.

“ _Uff,_ alright! You’ve made it to the damn bath…,” Jim gasped out, looking down at Harvey slumped over him. “Harvey…?”

“I’m good. Just let an old man rest a moment…,” Harvey breathed.

He appeared so spent that he hardly seemed to care his bearded face had come to rest right against the toned expanse of Jim’s heaving stomach. Or the heavy awkwardness of holding Jim like he had, before. Like he was still trying to, irrationally, but the angle had forced Harvey to release the arm under Jim’s ass.

Their exhausted breathing filled the tiled room. Jim let his head clunk back against the bottom of the large bath tub, squirming slightly under Harvey’s chest as he tried to get his tail at all comfortable.

“I know you’re a little tipsy, but we can’t stay like this.”

His partner didn’t answer. A smile started tugging at Jim’s lips as Harvey basically sighed in exhaustion and nuzzled against his stomach, his arm still around Jim’s back. It was still awkward, yes, but sort of endearing. Jim huffed, not quite knowing what to do about it. 

“Harv…,” he said quietly, tone growing soft. “I’m okay. You can let go.”

“I heard you. Just can’t move yet,” Harvey groaned plaintively. “Tired…,”

Hesitantly, Jim relaxed under his downed partner, flattening against the bottom of the bath. His pearly whites started showing when Harvey grunted into his stomach. He stared upwards at the water stains running across Harvey’s bathroom ceiling, his messed hair hanging into eyes that were slowly crinkling at the corners.

“I’ll just stay like this, then…,” Jim stated towards the ceiling. The underlying lightness in his tone reminded Harvey of dappled sunlight.

“Thank you…,” Harvey sighed gratefully. He turned his head a little on Jim’s trim waist.

“No, I should thank you…,” Jim mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. _You came back, even though I tried to push you away. Thank you for saving me._

They rested like that, Jim feeling drowsy as the minutes stretched, and Harvey hardly coherent in his utter exhaustion. Jim had hardly slept a wink, and his body had been achy and strained ever since the transformation, whereas Harvey had endured a short night in the hospital.

They were both so damn tired, it wasn’t even that funny.  

Absentmindedly, Jim let a cold hand come up. He smoothed over the back of Harvey’s head, fingers stroking through his damp red locks.

“You’re such a good friend…,” Jim was mumbling. “Don’t deserve this treatment, you know.”

Harvey whimpered as Jim petted his hair lightly.

“Jim, don’t…,”

“Like a brother to me…,”

“Mmm-hhhhmmm…” Harvey made, slumping further into him. “Oh, shut up…,” he snuffled.

They rested in that uncomfortable, yet chastely intimate position.

Jim’s tired fingers stilled, still lightly clasping at the hair in Harvey’s nape as he started to doze.

Harvey sighed against him.

With heroic effort, he snagged the side of the bath with one trembling arm and heaved himself into a sitting position, head and shoulders against the bath, carefully pulling Jim’s limp hand away and cracking his eyes open. 

“Alright, Jimbo…,” he said. “It was a long day… just, let me get you comfortable. Then, I’m going to bed...’kay? I’m too old for this…,”

“Hmm…?” Jim mumbled sleepily. His head lolled, golden strands of hair slowly curling as they dried against his forehead.  

Harvey hesitated, leaning down over the bath and contemplating his partner. He didn’t know what to feel about Jim’s transformation yet, was still fighting to get his head around it, but his partner was _here_. Harvey was so damn thankful that Jim had survived against insurmountable odds, he felt close to sobbing with gratitude.

And, _Mother Mary_ , when Jim looked like that, unguarded, sleepy and sort of… _soft_ , that was like the best and the worst kind of torture to his squeezing heart.

He knew he probably – really - shouldn’t do this, but there was an incredible allure to Jim’s hair when it looked this beautifully disheveled.

The mere idea of _touching_ it, something that Jim went to such self-conscious lengths to keep in near-perfect condition at all times, even in the worst bomb scares and assassination attempts, for Christ’s sake, - well. Hardy ha.

There was simply no other way to say it: Jim’s hair was a goddamned forbidden fruit, even his former love interests hardly daring to mess with it.

Or did they? Did _Jim_ like that kind of thing, behind closed doors?

Harvey imagined the feel of it, the faint resistance of Jim’s hair product, the thickness of the strands just above his nape. Jim whining slightly, graceful neck arching in pleasure as Harvey pulled his locks ever so gently. It made Harvey gulp. Suddenly, he was a bag of nerves, unwilling to make Jim angry at him for doing something so stupid and sappy.

But… this was _Jim_ , and it was rarer than a heat wave at Christmas when the man managed to wind down for one freaking second. How many times did they need to save each other’s lives to realize they needed each other, acknowledge how far their friendship had progressed? Admit to the fact that their trust was the strongest bond they had known for years? Jim hadn’t openly said it, but he trusted Harvey deeply, implicitly. And it was a known fact that the older detective didn’t dive into death-defying situations for just anyone. But Harvey would go through anything, _anything_ , just to stay in the presence of Jim. His north star, for better or worse.

Maybe between close friends, a little hair petting for comfort was alright? Harvey could be overthinking this, making it into something dirty, when it didn't have to be. Jim certainly hadn't made it such a big deal when he had run his fingers through Harvey's locks - so maybe, as his friend, Harvey had the same allowance. It wasn't like they were anything more. He was the one making this weird… right? 

But oh god, he really wanted to reach out and _touch_ Jim’s hair.

 _Muss it up even further. Pulling it. Carding through it. Making Jim groan, biting down against his full lower lip, cheeks flushed, helplessly aroused under his ministrations… no. NO!_ Harvey had to stop right there, because if he continued this line of thought, it would lead to all kinds of dangerous implications and consequences. It wasn’t like that, anyway. He was tipsy, Jim wasn’t wrong about that. Wasn’t thinking straight, and so tired… of course he was thinking crazy stuff. Where was this coming from? As if Jim would ever be interested in being more than best friends, as if Harvey could match up to the long-legged beauties that draped themselves round Jim's neck. He knew his place, and it was enough… it was enough as long as Jim was safe. 

He didn't know what to call this. Harvey only knew he sometimes positively _ached_ to take care of Jim. Make him lighten up, if only a little.

Harvey leaned down, tenderly caressing one of Jim’s check bones. Stifling the faintest sigh of longing, he slowly teased Jim’s tousled hair out of his closed eyes. It felt better than he’d imagined. The wet strands felt slightly coarse as they started to dry naturally, but _perfect_.

The texture against his skin sent a small shiver up Harvey’s spine, and he closed his eyes, savoring it for all it was worth. This was ridiculous, getting so shivery just by touching Jim’s hair, when Jim had petted him before, almost insensitively innocent. But he really couldn’t help himself. He had become such a sap for Jim.

If that’s all Jim now needed to keep him in line, then Harvey was so, _so_ screwed.

“I know you’re very tired. Can you just sit up a little, so I can get you into the bath?” Harvey said softly.

At the light touch, Jim stirred, his lashes parting to reveal his cobalt-blue orbs. In the stark light of the bathroom, the bioluminescence was gone from them. Except for the tail, Jim looked almost human again, but also strangely vulnerable, layers of protection removed.

Harvey stared, transfixed.

_Oh, no._

If only he were a saint, then he wouldn’t have these problems.

“What?” Jim said, somewhat anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

Harvey felt a flush come to his neck.

“Uh, n-nothin’. Could you, uh, sit up?” he said, a little hastily. “I want to run you a bath.”

Jim nodded slowly. He pulled himself up towards one end of the bath, wriggling to move the heavy tail, as Harvey carefully pushed the rest of it over the lip of the huge bath. 

Jim’s tail was long. There was no way to get in the whole tail without somehow folding or curling it inwards. Jim fumbled around clumsily as he tried to do just that while Harvey started drawing him a bath. He looked Jim over, focusing on the garment the merman was still wearing. The lithe muscling of his chest and abs were visible through the shirt and white undershirt beneath, the soaked material practically clinging to his body.

“Lose your clothes, Jim,” he suggested, clearing his throat when Jim looked at him like that, all wide eyes and confused frown.

“Huh?”

 “Come on, man. Don’t make this weird, okay? You’re covered in dirt and stink. You really need a wash. So, lose the shirt?” Harvey drawled out, trying very hard not to trip over his words.

Jim nodded again, pursing his lips. “Oh,… yeah.”

He opened the tiny buttons of the garment as Harvey tired to look anywhere but there. Jim dropped the shirt and the undershirt to the floor next to the bath and leaned back with a sigh. Although he hadn’t minded the cold of Gotham Harbor, the warm, clear bath water was soothing to his adrenaline-depleted body, and the sounds of the liquid dripping and swirling around his scales felt weirdly right.

The merman sighed tiredly and shifted to get more of himself into the water. Although the bath was a huge, ancient thing, it was still a tight fit for the sheer massiveness of the tail.  After some consideration, Jim found a solution to how he could rest more comfortably.

Jim folded the tail up against himself, hugging part of it as the rest naturally followed the motion and curved up against the side of his neck and over his head, the tail fin fanning out back over his shoulder like a sunscreen. Easing up his initial hold, Jim wrapped one arm around the tail lightly, holding it in place by the crook of his elbow. Jim cushioned his head on his other arm and leaned heavily against the side of the bath. He felt cozy, being supported from all sides like that.

The place felt safe. Jim really couldn’t remember when he had last felt like that – just _safe_ and comforted. It was so nice... 

As the water line rose, Jim slowly numbed to the world, giving in to the pleasant sensation of warmth.  

 “I’ll be right back, ‘kay?”

“Hmm- Mhm.”                                                               

Harvey noticed Jim drooping when he came back into the bathroom with a sponge, several towels and soap. Carefully, he kneeled next to the tub.

When Harvey let one hand reach out and slide over some of the scales, Jim gasped and jerked back. Something touching his scales felt dangerous, no matter what it was. A defensive reaction kicked in on instinct.

Jim gave a confused hiss and sat up, suddenly very much awake. The quick motion sent a slop of water over the edge onto the floor and doused Harvey’s trousers.

“Whoa, whoa! Jimbo!” Harvey exclaimed, holding out pacifying hands.

Jim blinked, sinking back quickly and sending his partner a bewildered look.

“I – uh. I don’t know what that was.”

“Hey, it’s just me,” Harvey said, a worried crease between his eyes. “You okay?”

“… yeah. Sorry, you… startled me,” Jim said. Contrite, he looked at Harvey’s clothes. “Now you’re at least as dirty as I am…and wet…,” 

Harvey smiled at him, looking a little sad. “Jim, I’ve been dirty for a while now.”

Jim frowned, opening his mouth to say something, but Harvey patted his hand affectionately, smile never leaving his tired face.

“…. after all, I lugged your sorry ass here, remember?”

Jim winced. “About that. Harv, I haven’t even said thank you properly – “

“Uh, you have, earlier. And maybe a little unnecessary anyway, wouldn’t you think?” Harvey interjected. “Jim. _You_ saved _me_ , first. So now, let me give you a bit of brotherly comfort, hmm?”

Jim stared at him, unable to decipher what was wrong about that. The sentence structure, the way Harvey had said it?

“… alright. Thank you,” he said. “Know you’re just trying to help.”

“I know, Jim. It’s all good. You’ve been through hell, I get it. But you’re safe here, remember?”

 _Safe_. Right. This was a safe place, and he was in the company of his friend.

Jim rolled his shoulders, annoyed by his skittish reaction. “… yeah,” he said.

“I didn’t want to startle you… I just. Wanted to help ya out.” Harvey said apologetically, holding up a sponge and some soap and gesturing at the tail.

“Because, um. Your scales. They’re pretty messed up, Jim. Don’t know if you can reach them, all by yourself…?” he continued.

Jim frowned down at himself and had to concede that Harvey was completely right. Half his scales seemed to be covered in mud, dirt and some kind of grainy oil. Maybe motor oil. Clearly, it hadn’t been the best idea to spend so much time on the harbor floor.

“Jim?”

“Guess I do need more of your help,“ Jim said and gave a wan, self-deprecating smile. His eyes flicked back up, meeting Harvey’s grey-green ones.

“Thanks. I really appreciate… all this...,”

Harvey let out a breath.

“Okay, let’s do this again. This time, don’t freak out, yeah?”

Jim nodded. “I’ll try.”

His partner snorted into his bead. “Okay then…,”

Tentatively, Harvey touched Jim’s scales with his fingertips and sighed in relief when his partner didn’t jerk back again.

“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, or something. I really, _really_ don’t want to hurt you, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Jim said, lips curving.

Harvey let his hand wander down Jim’s scales to the side of his hip, dragging the soapy sponge across the greasy film.  

“Is that okay?”

Jim nodded, eyes watching him carefully beneath his lashes.

Harvey squirmed a little.

“Yeah... feels amazing. Keep going…,” Jim said at last, very softly.

Harvey gaped at him for a moment, a myriad of emotions crossing his face in rapid succession.

“R-ight…,”

He got down to work, carefully rubbing off the dirt and oil with the soapy sponge in small circling movements. The dirt dissipated into the water in a fine cloud. Jim kept watching, twisting accordingly to help Harvey get at the worst spots without too much trouble. Jim couldn’t quite look at the tail properly yet, shying away from the reality of it, even though is was hard to ignore as he processed the sensation of skin and the soapy lather of the coarse sponge against his scales.

Harvey seemed to become quite engrossed in his task, but Jim found his thoughts start to drift as the exhaustion made itself known again as soon as he managed to relax. Also, the rubbing really felt pretty amazing, like a massage.

And Harvey was talented at this at this sort of thing. Jim hadn’t known that.

“Your scales. They’re… not as hard and jagged as I thought,” Harvey mused after a few companionable moments of silence. He smiled at Jim as he brushed his other hand along the cleaned area, odd fascination in his expression. “They’re nice. Kind of supple and smooth, like a weave.”

Jim briefly lifted an dubious eyebrow at the comment, but felt a curl of relief that Harvey hadn’t recoiled in horror. “Thanks…,” he croaked out quietly.

Harvey was incredibly gentle with him, massaging along his tail lightly in slow circles of the sponge, and although Jim supposed he really should help or at least look appreciative, he just felt bone-tired. He blinked as more of his coloring started to show in the soapy bath water, not really registering much though. Except the comfort, that he registered in detail.

To Jim’s surprise, his partner started humming something under his breath as he worked, the cuffs and arms of his shirt already wet to the shoulders. The faint humming was soothing, easing his embarrassment.

Slowly, Jim relaxed further. This was okay. He was safe. Harvey wouldn’t hurt him.

He didn’t even seem to mind so much that Jim had been turned into a monster…

Jim let his head go back to rest against the side of the bath and closed his eyes.

Hmmm… this was nice…

Jim drifted.

It felt like only minutes later when he heard Harvey pull the plug.

“Nnngh…” Jim slurred sleepily in protest, trying to rise and open his eyes.

Harvey gave a sigh. “Shush, relax,” he whispered in a fond tone. “ _Relax_ , Jim. Please.”

Jim felt his partner’s fingers card his trailing damp hair back out of his forehead, feather light and halting.

It felt good… safe.

_But he didn’t deserve this…_

“I’m just refilling the bath,” Harvey said quietly. “We’re not quite finished yet.”

Jim only managed a tired nod against the side of the bath, settling down as the water ran off him in rivulets. He tried to open his eyes again, but against the total exhaustion, it was a battle already lost.

Harvey repeatedly wet the sponge, working up a lather with the soap. He scrubbed at the last horrible bit of residue still sticking to the scales until it was off, which took quite a while. Taking another breather, Harvey noticed how pliant Jim had become. He was finally clean, at least as clean as the small space to work in allowed.

The merman whined when Harvey sprayed his tail down with the small shower head. Harvey was careful to keep from soaking Jim’s head and shoulders. Then, for the third and final time, the water line rose, clean warm water lapping over shining skin and scales.

Jim curled against the support of the bathtub, splashing as he sank deeper, posture loosening. He snuffled in contentment as he felt the faint press of water against his body. His scales tingled pleasantly from the scrub. The silence and the intense feeling of safety flooded him.

_He could really go to sleep now…_

His lashes fluttered, settling calmly against his cheeks.

Unconsciously, he nuzzled against the thinnest part of his tail fin resting lightly against the side of his cheek as he got more comfortable. The broader part of the large tail fin flopped over even further, shading part of his face, the back of his neck and shoulders. A small shield to the world.

When the water shut off and only the sound of Harvey’s breathing filled the room, Jim had fallen into an exhausted sleep, the knowledge he was completely safe a warm feeling spreading through his ribcage.

 

***

 

Harvey sat back and wiped his brow.

He was so tired he could keel over, but getting Jim as clean and comfortable as possible after his torturous experience of being so fundamentally changed had to come first. Harvey could bear the strain of staying awake a little longer – it hadn’t exactly been a hardship to let the sponge wander, marveling, over Jim’s resting body, after all. He couldn’t stop marveling at Jim having caved like that, allowing Harvey to take control and clean him, reverently manhandling him.

Maybe Jim had been more whacked than Harvey had even suspected.  

Jim had finally fallen into a deeper sleep cycle a few minutes ago. He was curled up in the bath, half-submerged in the faintly lapping water, head tucked up against one trailing arm. Slow breaths came out of his half-open mouth, occasionally dropping into soft snores. His lashes were long against his cheeks. Half his face lay shrouded by his dark tail fin, while single water drops ran down the unblemished skin of his neckline.

The man had never been hard on the eyes. But the merman version was a whole new level of beauty. Now that Jim was not in any immediate danger and all the dirt had been peeled away from his scaled lower half, Harvey had the chance to really _take_ _in_ Jim’s merman tail for the first time.

What a weird development.

But the tail… was absolutely _stunning_.

If Harvey thought he had it bad for Jim’s hair, then the tail might just eclipse that one as his new favorite thing.

It was impossible _not_ to stare at it. Luckily, Jim had been too tired at that point to pay much attention to Harvey’s look while he rubbed the dirt off the scales. 

Unbelievable that Jim had survived that extreme kind of transformation and healed up again so quickly. It was unbelievable and unnatural, but then, so was coming back from the Dead. Nevertheless, growing a fish tail definitely wouldn’t be a form they could file to explain Jim’s prolonged absence at the precinct. Clearly Gotham PD hadn’t modernized it’s paperwork for this kind of crazy in time. 

Harvey had no contingency plan. Right now, he didn’t care what they could possibly do to rectify the situation. They would break their brains about that later in the day – as Harvey had called in sick for both of them from the hospital, thinking quickly, neither Jim nor Harvey needed to get up in the next few hours. Thank god for that, because Harvey needed more than a few hours sleep. More like ten or twelve. But that would hardly happen, with his constant worry for Jim. Maybe eight hours would work, he’d consider that a success.  

His green-grey eyes traced Jim’s half- concealed chest, the fine definition of abs beneath soft skin, the dip as his rib cage went over to the trimness of his stomach, the skin looking even softer here, like liquid silk.

After that came the massive tail. It made a lithely muscled impression, all streamlines. The tail looked powerful and elegant, which befitted its wearer. A triangular dorsal fin stuck up on the last third of the tail. The tail narrowed in the course of its impressive length that Harvey judged to be maybe five feet, till it was maybe half as broad again as a human’s ankle.

Then, the large tail fin fanned out, supple membrane taking over from the scales. Two elegant fans reminiscent of leaves branched out of the trunk, the long tips of each fan curling inwards towards the other. Crudely spoken, the tail fin’s basic form appeared similar to a crescent moon. And it looked damn strong. Harvey wouldn’t want to get hit by that tail fin.

Below Jim’s navel, the skin slowly gave way to fine scales the size of his little finger nail and the color of sapphires. Just above the curve of Jim’s hip bones, the real scales began, coin-sized half circles weaving into each other in seamless perfection, the blue rapidly darkening to a deep ocean tone reminiscent of Jim’s eye color.

At Jim’s front, a swell of scaled muscle rested beneath his lower abdomen, the slight bulge making Harvey pause, wondering if Jim still somehow had his reproductive organs or not. Harvey’s thoughts wandered into dangerous waters yet again before he could draw them back with effort. He cringed a little when he realized he might be staring at Jim’s modesty while the poor guy slept. How sick was that? But did this count as staring at naked guy if said guy had fish scales covering half his body?  

The further down the tail Harvey let his eyes travel, the more he noticed midnight black scales intersperse liberally with the deep ocean blue, overall darkness of the tail deepening from cobalt into navy until the tail became a solid jet black at the narrowest point, just before the large fin at the end, the tail fin, broadened out. Jim’s fins were held in streaks of cobalt and sapphire blue, fanning out from the center of each membrane. The tail fin and the dorsal fin, similar to the sides of the tail itself, were dramatically framed in black, making the tail look more than a little bad-ass and sleek.

Harvey was too tired to look even closer at the scales, but he thought he caught the faintest whorls of color within each dark scale, possibly adding more richness to Jim’s coloring then he could make out yet. It would be worth it seeing the tail in daylight, that was for sure. 

The whole tail glistened, single scales catching the light as Jim shifted unconsciously in his sleep with another soft snore. Fractals of light reflected against the tiles.

Harvey’s heart ached, because something so beautiful and vulnerable had no right to exist in his life, yet alone in the seediness of his bathroom.  

Lord, Harvey could stare at Jim for hours as it was, and now that he could see the beauty of the tail, on top of it all… it was so much worse.

Now it almost hurt to look away.

Maybe that’s what people felt when they had had a divine experience: A kind of breathless, heart-wrenching adoration like Harvey felt.

Jim stirred slightly in his sleep. He nosed up against the “ankle” of his tail fin, a small, muffled noise escaping from his barely-parted lips. The small gesture was indescribably cute, if Harvey was honest, and reminded him a bit of a cat. Jim settled down again with a soft snore, eyes tracking back and forth languidly under his tightly closed eyelids.

Reluctantly, Harvey peeled his watery eyes away from the sight.

He got up quietly, turning off the light as he went out. He left the bathroom door ajar. It was so late at night that he could hear the early birds start to chirp awake. Really, it was time to let his partner get some much-deserved shut-eye.

He would attempt to snag some Z’s himself, and try not to dream of beautiful creatures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song suggestions: 
> 
> Bastille - Quarter Past Midnight  
> Banners - Someone To You  
> Walk the Moon - Avalanche


	6. So, you've been knocked down... (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> So... ahem. If you thought the Body Horror / Body Worship was over, we're just getting started! *-*  
> Mild WARNINGS for issues of self-hatred. (I really couldn't see Jim being super happy when he wakes up, I mean, come on... we all know that would have been a stretch). Also warnings for ENDLESS PINING, lol (Harvey, my poor bb). However, there may be more cuteness here than you think... definitely some interesting vibes. 
> 
> Wishing all readers a lovely day/night, I'm thrilled if you like what you see <3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became SUCH a monster, I made the difficult decision to split it into two. Because, no one wants to read 10K+ words at once, surely? Yeah, I imagine not. Need to get away from writing real-time stuff for chapters to get shorter again... I'll be posting "Part Two" within this current week, I promise. 
> 
> Just a reminder, I really appreciate all commments, long or short. If you'd like to say something, but don't want to chat, just add the word *hush* at the end of your comment and I'll appreciate it in grateful silence. A kudo also goes a long way in making my day that much brighter. Thanks to all of you for even reading this absolute self-indulgence...  
> Don't let life get you down, or if you've been knocked down, don't stay down...! Fandom helps... <3.

After going to bed around sunrise, Harvey slept like a dead man, stretched out under the covers. His thick hair fanned across the feather pillow, a reddish wave streaked with experienced gray. A blaring car horn outside roused him too early for comfort. Woozily, he stared at the stains on his ceiling, gathering the strength to stand. He had the feeling he’d dreamed, but couldn’t remember anything other than a vague sense of wonder and unease.

A few hours of shut-eye had brought relief, but he still felt drained. He didn’t want to leave the warm bed… but the thought of Jim prevented getting any further sleep.

Jim, a _merman_ …?! For Pete’s sake…

Harvey didn’t think he had the creativity to dream that. So, it was real then. That had all seriously happened. As if it hadn’t been enough of a challenge to have Jim’s back before all this. Well he wouldn’t leave his partner to his fate, whatever that entailed… no pun intended.

After all they’d witnessed over the past years, maybe Harvey should be prepared for _any_ kind of crazy, but that wasn’t how the seasoned detective felt. The freakishness Dr. Strange had let loose upon his City still caught him a bit flat-footed. He guessed it went to show that being a grounded personality didn’t cut it anymore around here. Maybe it was time to accept that all the mysterious creatures and myths he’d been fascinated with as the kid of an Irish-immigrant family were actually being brought to life with abhorrent scientific zeal.

What made it hard was also the fact that he had had less hands-on experience with the weird. After all, it had been Jim, donning that sinful black leather jacket when he went hard-ass Bounty Hunter, who had had gone after so many of the so-called monsters of Indian Hill. Harvey had only seen a few of the more human-looking variants that didn’t escape being taken in to custody or die in the crossfire during Cobblepot’s power seize. Not the same level of experience, _thank_ _god_. Harvey wasn’t complaining. Given a choice between two evils, he decidedly preferred to deal with homicidal maniacs and mob-related killings every day than dip his toe in creepiness and peculiarity.

(((As an observation on the side, it wasn’t fair how Jim could pull off almost _every_ article of clothing better than he could. Not that it was necessary for Jim to wear _anything_ to look stunning, as the tail had proven.)))

It was a different issue to become the victim, though. Jim’s experience hunting down Dr. Strange’s creations wasn’t going to help much with dealing with what had been done to him.

Harvey would never see Jim as monster, not even with a fish tail.

But he was having a hard time to process, too, and it wasn’t even his body that had been transformed. He probably couldn’t imagine what Jim was going though, and that made Harvey swallow uncomfortably. To have a tail and gills and that luminosity in his eyes… god. The loss of his legs had to be awful for Jim, headstrong, independent-minded and self-sufficient as he was, always thinking on his feet. Easy independence of movement on land now taken from him, where would that leave the Boy Scout?

Jim had been pretty messed up at the docks – drowning in his own dark thoughts - but he had let Harvey help him. Harvey was so thankful Jim had shown himself at all and not disappeared to die alone… that had been his deepest fear, making him go up the walls at Gotham General.

His fears were realistic, because there was definitely still room on Jim’s downward spiral. Well, fuck, he wouldn’t let anything worse happen to his friend. Whatever it was going to take, it was Harvey’s job - his responsibility -, as Jim’s best bro and the closest he had to a loving family, to keep his partner from doing anything more concrete than _thinking_ about that shit. Harvey didn’t need to revisit the image of Jim forced to point a loaded gun to his own head under Tetch’s influence to know about his partner’s dangerous tendencies. Bad enough that the blonde did that on a near-constant basis when he got too stressed, probably standing trail with himself and proclaiming the death sentence, unobserved in the recesses of his own mind.

Harvey knew how Jim’s brain functioned: Fight to the bitter end, with everything he had at his disposal. That part of the equation was all well and good. The massive downside to the heroics was, if the Boy Scout gave in to his deep-routed existential doubts and self-hatred, the idea taking hold he was a tool that had lost its proper function, then he could become volatile. In that state of mind, Jim would only be able to see one “ _problem”_ – himself - and only one “ _solution”_. Jervis Tetch had merely brought to light what that so-called solution would look like, but the impulse had been there long before, waxing and waning under stoic surface calm. If Jim lost hope that he could make something better, or had a slim chance of regaining control, he would choose self-destruction with a machine-like efficiency even their enemies weren’t capable of. It hadn’t been hard to figure out the meaning behind that uncannily glassy expression in Jim’s eyes, during and after Blackgate.

He knew he hadn’t saved Jim, not truly, not yet. Getting the newly-turned merman to his apartment and into the bath was a start. But it was doing a shit-ton of nothing against the Boy Scout’s inner demons. Harvey would have to pay close attention to the tells. It would be a tall order to keep Jim remotely safe, but he was willing to do whatever necessary.

Harvey sighed into the quiet of the afternoon light filtering in through the shades. Slowly, he sat up in bed with a wince.

“ _Urgh_ ,…,”

His body complained bitterly what in the hell he was thinking, getting up when everything _ached_.

Nevertheless, he got to his feet. Absentmindedly, Harvey pulled down one crumpled sleeve of his PJ’s that had ridden up his freckled arm in the night. Next, he shucked into his heavy dark green bathrobe, flipping his curls over the collar so they wouldn’t get pulled uncomfortably when he shuffled around. He put on his frayed soft brown slippers. He wasn’t ashamed that he looked the part of the 70-year-old he currently felt like. There was nothing wrong with a little comfort in your own damn house.

Hmm, but he stank. No wonder, he’d fallen into bed not caring about anything anymore.

_I should take a shower… he. For that to happen a certain merman would have to leave the bath first…_

Now, the transformation… it raised other questions, too.

Like… the rest of Jim’s lower body, the other parts. So, shoot him, but Harvey was mentally going there! Honestly, it was a fair question: Could _anybody_ deal with that kind of sudden change? Bad enough losing your legs and all that implied! But taking your _junk_ away, too – (or maybe somehow sheathing it?)- but if so, how weird would that be…?! He could only make wild guesses about Jim’s junk. He did want to know though. What had happened down there…?  

… and when had all this deep thinking turned into him thinking about the whereabouts of Jim’s _junk_ …?

… worst thing was, he’d never felt saner.

So, he was the sane but pervy guy in this? No. He was really intrigued about the exact anatomical _implications_ of Jim’s transformation. And not even primarily from a sexual perspective, for once… no, scientifically: How did the transformation work and where did that leave Jim, gender-wise? Maybe he should consider another possibility, that Jim simply didn’t _have_ a sex anymore, of any kind…? (((Did crazy scientists really think of all the small print when they proceeded to do this stuff to people…?))). Wait, there had been that swell of muscle at Jim’s front… _hmm_.

Point was, even if he was having inappropriate, maybe way too intimate thoughts about his partner's situation… seriously, you didn’t _do_ that kind of shit to a guy! It went too far. The whole idea that Jim may have been stripped of any gender, it really pissed him off, worried and intrigued him in equal measure. It was Harvey’s God-given right to be pissed, for Jim’s sake, wasn’t it? Fuck, he didn’t know what to think.

Jim hadn’t said a word about it. Completely understandable if the traumatized… _merman_ … hadn’t given the subject any thought – _yet_ , but maybe Jim _had_ been thinking about it? Maybe he had chosen to shy away from the whole embarrassing subject. Harvey couldn’t fault him for that, he did have enough on his plate. Whether Jim would want to open up or not about it, later…. _ever_ , depended a lot on his mental state and good timing. It was best if Harvey didn’t push… asking might set Jim off. His friend’s emotional wellbeing came first. Harvey would try to be patient before attempting to satisfy his voyeuristic curiosity.

 _He’s probably close to breaking point already_ … _or will be, soon._

_But I’m always gonna have his back, no matter what he is, or isn’t… he’ll always be Jim to me._

_Don’t even seem to care about the form he’s in. He’s got a tail and I can’t help wanting to touch and comfort. Ah, hell. Who knew I could be a sap for him even beyond the physical…?_

_If he just allowed me that… to comfort. That’s all I want, to protect him. From himself and from the whole horrible world._

Harvey walked to the bathroom. His steps slowed as he neared the closed door. He didn’t notice how much he was starting to worry at his lower lip.

_Was he really that whacked yesterday, when he let me wash him? He was, right? There’s no other explanation. I’m only a friend. His best friend. The one still loyal to him. He’s only got me, poor beautiful soul._

_And that’s all it was, really… a little brotherly comfort between us. Like I said… there’s no reason for this to be weird. No reason at all._

Carefully, he opened the door and peered in, heart thudding.

_Just… be okay. Please be okay._

_Not sure I can handle it if you’re hurt._

Relief bloomed when he spotted Jim behind the shower curtain, curled up in the bath. The merman was still lost to dreamland, his face relaxed in slumber.

_At least the poor thing was getting some rest..._

Indeed, he’d hardly moved. Harvey briefly looked him over, lingering in the door frame.

The merman’s large tail fin hung down, curled over his shoulder and down the side of his cheek. His dark scales glistened, casting little spots of color all over the tiled walls. Slow, even breaths came out of his half-open mouth, sometimes descending into little snores and snuffling noises.

Harvey felt his mouth go slightly dry as he stared at Jim’s sleeping form.

Jim looked… _peaceful_.

Rather pale and pinched with still evident exhaustion, but peaceful. No faint crease between the eyes or the characteristic grimness around his angular jaw. _Relaxed_. When had Jim ever looked that peaceful… _shit_ … and so _gorgeous_ …

Like a stained-glass window, dusty light beams falling through it… a glimpse of something more. Harvey knew of churches with windows like that, _back_ _in_ _the_ _old_ _country_ , like mum sometimes used to say, bless her soul.

_Windows to heaven._

The man in the doorframe stifled a whimper.

Jim snored on, softly.

Harvey watched as Jim’s chest lifted with each slow intake. Another odd ache made itself known. It didn’t belong there. Inadvertently, he felt his fingertips twitch against the fuzzy fabric of the bathrobe as the warm feeling swirled inside.

Good he’d half-drawn the shower curtain before going to bed, so there was a thin layer between them. It helped him find the strength to finally turn towards the toilet. Nature was calling. But… it was slightly awkward… going to the John with his friend snoring in the bath behind him.

Not because they hadn’t stood next to each other often enough at the toilet stalls at the precinct. They had both seen each other’s displayed bodies on various occasions, usually work-related, often involving degrees of hurt and blood.

What made it awkward with Jim in the background, oblivious, was the whole situation. He didn’t know what he should be feeling, and he didn’t want to make the situation any weirder than it already was and freak Jim out. Harvey’s earlier thoughts were backfiring with a vengeance, and his throat felt tight with an unknown swell of emotion.

Luckily, Jim didn’t so much as twitch as Harvey tucked himself back in quickly.

Harvey mastered the urge to peer at Jim again by fleeing to the sanctuary of his kitchen, slightly wild-eyed as he brushed back a strand of hair and turned to the coffee machine. Mechanically he opened a cupboard and spooned the black substance into the filter.

Why was this affecting him so damn much?

But… well, it was a shock to the system, seeing Jim like that… vulnerable, relaxed and radiant. And that weirdly beautiful tail… _Jesus_ _Christ_. He wasn’t ready for this. Frankly, Jim was a whole new class of weapon. His good looks shouldn’t have the license to kill, but damn him if they didn’t almost constrict Harvey’s windpipe. That being in his bath tub was a god-damn vision, sent to taunt him. All that beauty… could confuse a guy... _any_ sane person would be confused!!!

_No big issue… just need a cup of coffee first. Yeah._

_Maybe also a sip from the hip flask… no, too early. Just coffee, then. Right…_

Harvey leaned against the kitchen counter and fiddled with the mug, almost forgetting to sip at the coffee.

What counted was how Jim was doing and helping him out… but he was only human. He had a problem handling this much beauty at once, in his shabby bathroom too, of all places.

Harvey couldn’t stop images coming to mind when he remembered how it had _felt_ to touch… to stroke and caress.

_Brushing back those dripping, tousled, golden strands of hair, just hours ago… or the smoothness of the scales…the whorls of color in each and every one of them… the silkiness of skin._

Just seeing Jim _sleep_ was doing things to Harvey’s head. He was screwed… utterly _screwed_.

How could anyone _not_ want to protect and comfort such a gorgeous, lonely creature?

The Boy Scout had his faults, but he deserved to be treated better, by himself and others. Harvey would treat him so much better – he’d give him anything he wanted, if Jim asked. Give him everything, anything, just to make the man look at him with wide blue eyes and smile softly. 

Clutching the mug, Harvey had to think about how badly Jim treated himself. There was no real stability left under all that reckless bravado and guilt-ridden diligence, he was so worried for Jim for good reason. The Boy Scout’s thing for personal appearances was a good example …the secret effort he put into it and the almost punishing way he set about his task.

Jim didn’t brush up so well out of arrogance. It was a deep-set insecurity and an overly stern professional pride, more like.

Harvey finally nipped at his coffee. He needed a bite to eat, to settle his stomach… uncaring, he dropped some slightly stale slices into the toaster as watched the electric wiring inside the slits heat up to burning orange…

If Harvey hadn’t seen what regiment Jim put himself through immediately after coming back from sewer chases, scams, bomb threats, hostage negotiations and homicide investigations – well, the usual B.S., in other words - he would have wondered, as an outsider, how the man even _did_ it, always looking so neat and clean. Ha!

Harvey had noticed Jim sneak away one time too many. Curious, he’d followed him once or twice into the locker room, under some pretext. There, Harvey had seen the guy undressing in a dark corner, almost like the dirt on his clothes was proof of utter personal failure. Jim couldn’t bear to look at himself. That had broken Harvey’s heart, the expression of evident disgust and derision in Jim’s eyes as he stepped through the interconnecting door to the men’s shower, in all his lithe and subtly muscled glory, a towel clutched firmly to his front in a fist.

The way Jim showered off, all military-style. No time for any self-comfort or care towards his fatigued body. Just hard lines and cold water until he was shivering – it hurt to steal a glance at that spectacle. Afterwards, Jim had toweled off aggressively, and combed his hair into that perfect style… how he got the balance right between softness and hardness with his hair product was a mystery to Harvey, but Jim had a knack for perfect hair…

The almost soulless preening was over and done with in under ten minutes, bruises and cuts covered as quickly as possible with the clean, starched lines of a pressed shirt. _That_ was Jim behind the closed doors of the precinct locker room, getting himself back into working shape at light speed. Jim was always covering up the hurt and the pain and the self-destruction. He didn’t indulge in even the smallest creature comforts.

At random intervals, Harvey had wondered if the clean shirts would ever run out and he would be forced into the exquisite torture of getting to stare at a disheveled Jim all day across the bare expanse of hardwood of their combined desks. That day had never come… maybe it was for the best, really…

_Jim, I just want to treat you better..._

_Hang in there for me._

It took another hour, but then Harvey worked up the nerve to go back into the bathroom.

Noticing Jim was still sleeping, he pulled up the small stool he’d found in the pantry. Heavily, he sat down.

“Buddy?” he said quietly.

Jim shifted. The scaly tail uncurled a little with a decidedly sinuous quality, but he didn’t show any further signs of waking.

“Hey, Jim…,” Harvey tried again, a little louder.

At the sound of Harvey’s voice, the merman sighed tiredly. His blond eyelashes barely moved, but the tail twitched as he gradually seemed to wake. Slowly, Jim nuzzled against his tail fin in the cute gesture Harvey had seen before. But the merman didn’t stop there. Instead, Jim’s tongue darted out. Harvey gasped when he realized Jim was cleaning himself, cat-like, licking along the fine webbing of the tail fin with languid sensuality. He didn’t seem to be consciously aware of what he was doing, going with some new inner compulsion. His eyes moved back and forth beneath his closed lids.

_It wasn’t cute… not exactly._

Harvey bit down sharply on his lower lip to stifle a groan, riveted against his will as the merman continued the dainty licks along the line of his tail fin like that was the most natural thing in the world.

“J-Jim…?” Harvey stammered out. He felt faint.

Jim stopped the licking. A faint mewl left his lips as his eyes finally opened.

The merman rubbed at his eyes and proceeded to squint slightly as he tried to focus. “… hnn?”

“Hey there, sleepy head. How ya doing?”

At least his voice hadn’t wobbled. Small mercies.

Harvey gave a frozen smile, hands holding on to the bath for some much-needed support.

“….H-Harv? What time is it?” Jim’s voice sounded weak and gravelly with disuse.

“Uh…, ‘bout four in the afternoon,” Harvey managed. He hoped the flush of his neck hadn’t transferred to his face. No way it would end well if he ever commented how absurdly _distracting_ the licking thing had been.

Jim eyebrows pinched faintly when he focused on Harvey. “I’ve been sleeping all day? What about B– did you…?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about the precinct for now, I took care of it.”

Jim nodded a little. “… good.”

He yawned behind his raised hand. His tail fin flopped to the side and over the lip of the bath. Jim followed the movement from the corner of his eye.

“Sleeping in a bath tub isn’t great for my back…,” he said with a sigh. “…but at least I slept.” He blinked down at the glimmering tail, a nonplused look passing over his face. He looked away quickly, brow creasing.

“Hoping it was all just a dream, am I right?” Harvey surmised.

The sullen glint in Jim’s orbs and the grim line of his mouth said it all.

Harvey nodded sympathetically, clasping his hands to stop himself from fidgeting. “It’s going to work out, Jimbo...,” he said. “I promise.”

Jim’s naked shoulders stiffened. He mumbled something under his breath and rubbed at his mouth, wincing. While Harvey patiently waited, Jim tried to stretch his tail in the bath. But it was far too long for that. A good third of it simply flopped over the side and twitched fitfully as he tried to straighten his spine.

Jim gritted his teeth and let out a slow breath.

“So… h- how are you feeling, man?”

“I’m fine.”

Harvey hid his flinch at the clipped and steely tone.

“Are you in any pain…?”

“I’m f -,” Jim stopped when he caught Harvey’s expression. He gave a terse sigh, the skin creasing around his eyes. “… yeah. My back hurts… need to get out of this bath.”

Harvey hesitated, considering. “Yeah… but… what about your tail?”

“What about it?” There was a trace of bitterness in Jim’s voice. His blue orbs had something flat to them, an iced-over lake. He crossed his arms, the crease between his eyes deepening.

“Well…, don’t you think you could dry out or something…?”

“I didn’t dry out when you hauled me out of the harbor,” Jim said sardonically, raising his flat eyes. “I’m not made of glass.”

“Okay, sure,” Harvey conceded. “But we don’t know how long your body can do without water…Jim, I’m just saying -”

Jim huffed. “I can’t stay here forever.”

“Okay. The way I see it, you’ve just woken up and you’re still getting your bearings. Let’s see if you can eat something first, and then we’ll make a plan, alright?” Harvey suggested, watching Jim carefully as the merman sat there, back stiff, mouth grim and the tail twitching.

“… I’m getting out of this bath,” Jim said slowly.

“Let’s not push our luck, okay?”

Harvey didn’t like the way Jim’s lip curled or the harsh bark of laughter.

He avoided Harvey’s worried stare and heaved himself against the side of the bath, making the bath water slosh. “If you would… give me a hand…,”

“Jim, can we _please_ think about this for a moment? I can bring you a sandwich, if you’re feeling hungry…,” Harvey.

“…not hungry.” Jim lowered his face and took a deep, pained breath. “Don’t pretend I’m human, Harv, please don’t…”

“I’m not pretending anything –, “

Jim stayed silent.

Harvey sighed. “Jim, I can hear that voice in your head screaming its lungs out. Please let me help you.”

“… help me out of here then, would ya?” the merman growled softly, fingers curling around top of the bath.

Harvey had had enough.

He gripped Jim’s pale hand with both of his own firmly. “Jim, look at me.”

Unwillingly, the Boy Scout raised his eyes.

“I want you to be safe. That’s all. That’s all I want.”

Jim’s features wrinkled. “And for that to happen, you expect me to stay put? In your _bath_?”

“ _Er,_ well no. Just don’t want you rushing into the next situation…,”

“Who cares? What could possibly happen to me that could be any worse than…,” Jim gestured at himself – “… _this_?”

“I could think of a lot of things,” Harvey said seriously, not letting go of Jim’s hand.

Jim pulled back from the touch, curling his hands inward over his stomach. Suddenly, he looked very tired.

“… my back hurts, okay? So, are you going to help me or do I have to claw my way out of your tub on my own?” he said, the faintest pout forming.

“Argh man, I’m sorry…,” Harvey sat back slightly on the stool, eyes raking over the merman’s face. “What worries me is we have no freaking idea what could happen if you get too dry. I mean, with those scales, you probably need to stay close to water… right? Can’t we try something else before we get you out? I dunno – I’ve got painkillers… or, how about a massage instead, to help the pain…?”

“No… I need to stretch out…,” Hesitantly, as if battling some resistance, Jim met his eyes again. “I need your help…,”

Harvey sighed shakily, lost in all that hopeless blue.

“You’re going to insist upon getting your way, whatever I have to say, aren’t ya?” he groused. “You should listen to me sometimes, Jimbo… I really don’t know about this…,”

The crease between Jim’s eyes deepened as he kept staring at him, and Harvey could almost swear the luminosity was coming back. In any case, there was something piercing and pleading, shimmering behind that layer of ice.

_Please. Don’t make me say it, Harv. Don’t make me say it._

God, he could almost hear Jim in his head now.

“Jesus, _fine_. I’ve got better things to do then argue!” Harvey growled.

Another flutter of activity behind the flatness… a pale imitation of hope?

Jim gave a shaky sigh of his own, a corner of his mouth twitching before falling back into its grim standard setting. His tail twitched as he flopped a little closer to the side of the tub. He raised his arms slightly. “… well? I’m waiting.”

Harvey lifted an eyebrow and snorted. “You’re cute, you know that, right?”

That got Jim’s attention, a spark of annoyance finally breaking through the terrible flatness. A slight burn came to his ears as he frowned.

“… shut up, you asshat,” he said. His tone was impossible to fathom, but Harvey could swear there was a note of fondness in there somewhere.

Harvey gave a lop-sided smile.

“Excuse me?”

Jim’s spine curled in on itself. “Doesn’t matter…,”

“ _What_ did you just say to the guy whose gonna carry you, _again_?”

“… m’sorry…,” Jim said, the burn spreading to his sides of his neck as he averted his eyes. “It’s just …, I never wanted -,”

Harvey nodded. “I know, Jim. Apology accepted.”

Jim grimaced faintly, eyelids drooping. His tail twitched again.

“Want me to carry you?” Harvey offered teasingly after a heartbeat of silence, gently reaching out to grasp Jim’s bicep. “Whatever you need, man…,”

Jim balked slightly at the touch, but didn’t move away.

“… just let me hold on your shoulders…,” he mumbled. “That’s e-enough.” He was definitely starting to blush now, right?

“Fine. Come ‘ere, Putz…,” Harvey chuckled, ignoring the fluttering of his poor heart.

After a rather hesitant glance at his face, Jim shifted closer and lifted up his arms again slightly.

_Best get this over with quickly, otherwise I won’t let go again._

Harvey leaned down and let Jim firmly grab onto his broad shoulders. He in turn gripped Jim under the arms. With a groan, he physically hauled the heavy merman out of the bath onto the tiled floor. Jim mewled as he half-fell, half slithered to floor, a slosh of water going with him. Harvey watched as Jim gritted his teeth and heaved his torso off the floor with trembling arms until he’d managed to maneuver himself into a leaning position against the side of the tub. The glimmering tail flopped around before curling up around him, tail fin flat like an enormous fan.

“Good I wanted to shower anyway…,” Harvey commented, observing the soaked hem of his bathrobe and his slippers and folding his arms.

 “Thanks,” Jim finally pressed out, sounding only mildly thankful.

When Harvey straightened up, sighing as his own back cracked, Jim looked up.

“So… do I get to leave this bathroom, too?” he queried, rubbing at his spine.

“As you’ve asked so nicely… yeah, whatever. Let’s just do the next reckless thing…,”

Jim grimaced at him.

“...but only if you let me carry you this time,” Harvey said, a nervous tingle running through his core when he saw Jim’s dark look. “Just to the couch, okay? Let me put something over it first, to keep it from getting too damp.”

Jim nodded stiffly, gaze becoming piercing.

After gathering together some towels and leaving the room for a moment, Harvey soon returned.

“So… it’s not ideal, but it will do. The couch is ratty already. Not feeling too conflicted about water stains.”

He kneeled down. “Are you _really_ sure about this, though?”

“I want to leave your bathroom, Harv. Staring at tiles is making me crazy.”

“Alright, alright ... come on, then.”

“Can’t I… crawl… to the couch?” Jim tried to protest. “There’s really no need to carry me. I’m fine.”

“Nope,” Harvey said. “Those are the new house rules. People without legs get carried.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Thanks. Taunt the cripple…,” The way he pouted made Harvey want to pinch his cheek.

Harvey shook his head to clear it. This actually wasn’t about him wanting to break his back, or self-indulgence.

“Jim, you don’t want to take a closer look at the floor. You’ll get yourself all dirty again if you crawl, because I honestly can’t remember the last time I vacuumed… trust me on this, buddy.”

That seemed to convince the Boy Scout, although he still had that tense expression and looked less than pleased.

“Fine… do what you have to do…,” he groused.

Harvey was very proud how well he hid the smirk.

Like the night before, his arm automatically went around merman’s lower back, while the other wound its way under the Jim’s backside, gathering up the tail. The merman slung his arms around his neck and clung to him as Harvey staggered to his feet. With tottering steps, he managed to navigate Jim to the sofa, dropping him down on to it as gently as he could before his knees gave way.

“Oh boy…,” he panted out. “I keep forgetting how heavy you are. Need to stop doing this.”

“It’s solid muscle!” Jim protested.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Harvey said. “Jeez, just trying to get a raise out of you, okay?”

Jim's mouth pouted beautifully. He sent a faint glare in Harvey's general direction, then turned his attention to the couch. Towels had been thrown over it liberally. Harvey watched Jim shuffle around, carefully keeping the towels beneath his damp body, not wanting to ruin Harvey’s furniture. It was sweet how much care Jim was taking, as the couch wasn't that pristine anyway. The merman manhandled his tail until it trailed across the whole length of the couch. The tail fin fell over the one end and his back came to rest at an angle against the other end. Jim groaned weakly. It had to be a relief to sit on something soft again after sleeping so uncomfortably. 

“Thanks…,” Jim said.

As Harvey watched, he stretched luxuriously, groaning as his new joints cracked along his elongated spinal cord. The muscles beneath the scales rippled slightly with the movement. It was distracting, the way the scales caught the reddish light of the afternoon filtering between Harvey’s drawn blinds and threw dark rainbows across the old plastered walls. Jim really had no clue how beautiful he was.

“… you’re welcome…,” Harvey whispered.

“Ouch…,” Jim mumbled as he stretched out in all his glorious scaled length. He twisted on the couch, taking in the room, hand still rubbing at his lower back as if in pain.

“How about a drink?” Harvey pointed at the jug and two glasses on the coffee table.

Jim smiled faintly. “See you’re prepared. When did you wash up?”

He snagged a glass of water from the coffee table and took a small sip, swallowing slowly.

“Earlier. I had a little time on my hands, while you slept your scaly ass off.” Harvey retorted, willing himself to move.

The Boy Scout looked him over quizzically, then stared at the armchair across from the couch, a silent invitation to sit. Harvey wasn’t thinking of it. Ignoring Jim’s surprised hiss, he carefully lifted up the tail a little so he could wedge himself onto the couch as well, dragging the tail back over his lap and legs when he was seated. He felt drops of moisture slowly dripping into his bathrobe, but the tail wasn’t wet enough to soak him down to his PJs anymore. He just hoped the Boy Scout would really get away with this.

He gave Jim’s tail a pat and smiled at him. “Hi there, fishy friend. How’s it hanging?”

Jim scowled. “Don’t... tease me,” he said. His tail flopped, trying to get out Harvey’s grasp. But Harvey held on to it, breaking into a grin when Jim flushed a little as he realized he couldn’t escape. Trying to calm him, Harvey stroked over the scales with one calloused hand.

“I’m not. Not with this. So you have a fish tail, then it may as well be a nice one. This is pretty darn nice.”

Jim stared at him piercingly without saying anything, eyebrows raised. Just when the weight of his gaze was becoming a little uncomfortable to bear, the Boy Scout deigned to speak.

“It isn’t _nice_. It’s grotesque…,”

Harvey stroked along the tail, feeling the fine layering of scales under the skin of his fingertips.

“Have you given it a look?” he queried.

Jim bared his teeth slightly. “I don’t need to _look_ at it…,”

Harvey sighed.

 “A man can appreciate beauty, you know,” he said softly. “Your tail is special. It’s far from grotesque. It’s… it’s really something, Jimbo. Come on, just a peek?”

The merman turned his face away with a derisive snort, eyes sparking. He must think he was just teasing him, but Harvey had meant every word. It hurt to see how low his self-esteem was, how much he abhorred the tail. Well, he had seen this coming.

They fell into silence, Jim sipping at his water slowly, frown sticking, while Harvey’s careful hand stroked further along the tail, taking in the color shifts of the scales more closely than before. He’d been right with his suspicions. There were more hues of color in each and every scale than he had been able to see previously.

In the dark blue and black tones of Jim’s tail, he caught glimpses of a miniature rainbows in the darkness, like the glimmers in oil slick. The dark blue scales showed off small whorls of lighter sapphire and dark blue-greens, depending how they caught the light. The jet-black scales on the other hand, which appeared in more and more abundance further down the tail, seemed streaked with dark, muted glimmers of bluish-purple, like deep water… stained glass window, indeed.

Although still damp, the tail wasn’t cold or horribly clammy. On the contrary, Harvey could feel a faint warmth through the scales, although initially, when he’d carried him into the apartment, Jim’s overall body temperature had been lowered considerably in comparison to a human. Maybe he had warmed up slowly over night? Hopefully that was a good thing, a normal thing for his new physiology.

“Can’t believe you just _grew_ this thing. Don’t shoot me for saying this… but it’s amazing.”

Jim lifted his eyes briefly over the rim of the glass. He observed his partner peering down at single scales, tracing some of the whorls with one finger.

“… doesn’t feel like it belongs to me,” Jim mumbled, watching his partner tracing the scales.

Harvey looked back, eyes widening. With the dying light of the late afternoon and the overall darkening of the room, Jim’s blue orbs seemed to be regaining their bioluminescence. It was fascinating and sort of creepy, like watching a lightbulb begin to glow in freeze frames.

 “Yeah… you’re doing fine, Jim. It’s going to work out.” Hurriedly, he took the other glass and poured himself a drink. He briefly wished he had something stronger at his disposal.

“I miss… my legs…,” Jim said into the quiet room, voice almost plaintive.

“I know, man…,” Harvey said, going back to stroking down the tail. “Don’t get too worked up. Try and stay calm, Jim. I’m here for you, ‘kay?”

Jim’s eyes dipped as he set down the empty glass. He gave the faintest nod and swallowed, clasping his hands in his lap.

“Yeah…,”

“Breathe, Jim.”

The merman’s lips quirked tightly. “But…,”

“Shush…,” Harvey whispered, lost in the strangely relaxing motion of stroking.

The merman observed him, eyes faintly glowing beneath the curve of his lashes as he seemed to search for something.

Finally, Jim leaned back, tucking himself against the other end of the sofa. He sighed. “…okay.”

“Good. You’re doing good, kid.”

Jim huffed softly.

Harvey continued to lightly stroke the tail. The clock on the wall slowly ticked, minutes passing as the atmosphere became companionable.

For the first time since he began the ministrations, Harvey’s stroking had his hand pass over the thin “ankle” of the tail with his fingertips, where Jim’s black scales gave way to the smooth membrane of the crescent tail fin. In that moment, he noticed Jim give an involuntary shiver.

The merman breathed the faintest sigh, tense shoulders loosening. Harvey’s hand kept wandering over the membrane of the tail fin with greatest caution, caressing the streaks of sapphire and ocean blue gently with his thumb and forefinger. When he started rubbing lightly at the black trimming of the webbing, his friend sighed again, posture relaxing further. A small noise left Jim’s parted lips, bordering on a whimper.

Biting down on his lip as a bead of sweat slipped down his neck, Harvey tried again, engrossed to see where this was going.

Jim squirmed against the couch and blinked as Harvey rubbed and stroked, apparently unconsciously attempting to reassert control. But there was a noticeable glaze to those blue eyes that Harvey had never seen before. Jim licked over his lips slowly, eyes lowering. The submissive vibe… and the glaze to his softly glowing eyes… _Jesus_.

He had to look away. If he stared at Jim any longer his body would get the wrong idea. Harvey wasn’t sure anyone had ever seen Jim look like that, not even between the warm sheets… With some difficulty, he calmed his thudding heart and made a mental note of Jim’s reaction. Okay, the tail fin was a sensitive spot for sure… his sensitive spot throbbed uncomfortably. Maybe his traitorous body was getting the wrong idea already. 

_Think of something else..._

He poured himself another glass of water as well as one for Jim.

“You need to keep drinking. Hydration is important. Here, drink up.”

Strangely, Jim didn’t protest. He just took the glass and drank the whole thing, eyeing Harvey tiredly when he’d finished, almost waiting for approval.

_...the fuck?_

Harvey nodded slowly, watching him set down the glass and lean back yet again. Jim's eyes drooped adorably. 

That… _obedience_ … shit. It could give a guy ideas. Harvey's adam's apple bobbed as he tried to calm himself. He didn't want to take advantage...he'd never do that... but the imagery wasn't helping keep him calm. It was dumb luck that the angle of Jim's tail wasn't exactly touching him _there_... surely otherwise Jim would have noticed...? 

“Harv, what am I going to do?” Jim said after a long pause, mercifully distracting him. 

Jim sounded more like himself again, but he was clearly still droopy. And going back to the nagging self-hatred, evidently. Couldn't the man give it a rest already...?

“How is this going to even… work?” He touched along the line where his flesh melted into scales, lip curling with disgust. “I hate this…,”

“Don’t know. No damn clue what do,” Harvey said, sitting up straighter.

He brushed back a red strand of hair that had wormed it's way out of his loose ponytail, twisting at it before tucking it behind one ear. “I admit I wasn't prepared for this kind of crazy. But we’ll think of something...,”

“I was reckless,” Jim whispered after a pregnant pause. He hesitated, hands clasping in his lap. “Arrogant. Stupid. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have insisted we go in like that…,”

“Jim, stop. Yeah, you were maybe a little reckless, brother, but we’re used to that. No one’s saying you wanted this to happen... and now it’s done, okay?”

The Boy Scout’s pained sigh really hurt to hear.

“We had to follow that hunch, you knew it and I knew it. You know I would have gone about it differently, but I wasn’t going to let you do your thing alone, so…,” Harvey grimaced. He wasn't doing a good job of consoling the guy. But he was trying not to squirm here...

“Unfortunately, this is Gotham. Things go wrong all the time,” he continued bravely, giving the tail a manly pat.

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Well… I guess that’s one way to see it,” he said.

“We’ll manage, Jim. I promise, there will be a way. You've been knocked down, but you know what I said. You're a fighter. So, there must be a way.”

“… hmm.”

Looking his partner over again, Harvey shifted out from under the heavy tail. He clutched the bathrobe to himself as he rose to his feet.

“Do you mind if I hop into the shower?”

Jim gave him a searching gaze. “… go ahead,” he said, waving him off.

"Back in fifteen...,"

The merman shifted on the couch and closed his eyes as Harvey stalked off hurriedly, hoping against hope Jim had been too tired and distraught to notice his little problem and that a long cold shower would be able to solve it.

 


	7. ... but do you stay down? (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, second part of an originally super-long chapter. A silver lining is coming... more than that maybe.  
> But, expect a wild mix of emotions and MORE weirdness here before that point...you read the tags, so it shouldn't be such a surprise as it is to Harvey. ((I really can't help myself, I'm so sorry. Closes eyes and posts chapter)).

When Harvey exited the bathroom, he made a beeline for the kitchen. Of course, his stomach had started growling in discontent while he toweled off - well, he’d hardly eaten, it had to happen sometime. He risked a look into the fridge, but the cheese had gone slightly green, and the ham didn’t look that inviting either.

Sighing, he remembered he should have shopped the day before, but then everything had gone haywire.

_Dammit…_

He stuck to buttering some more of thin slices of bread. Returning to the couch, he looked at Jim, who was staring into space, eyes dull.

“Still hanging in there?” Harvey said, slightly suspicious.

Jim nodded tiredly. “How was the shower?”

“Refreshing, actually,” Harvey said as he resumed his seat, heaving the tail back to rest over his lower thighs and knees.

He held out the plate to Jim. “Here.”

Reluctantly, Jim took a piece of toast, while Harvey finished his own in four quick bites.

The shower had been more than refreshing. At least the interest of his nether regions had cooled off sufficiently.

He felt so bad for his best friend, shouldn’t be having these bodily reactions towards him, anyway, but… it was also true that Jim could probably make anyone a little crazy, looking like that.

He needed to find a way to help the guy deal with the horror and disgust he was going through. Understandable as it was for Jim to be feeling that, it didn’t make it any easier for the older man to witness. It was undermining his sanity.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d _really_ start to nursemaid Jim. Like, _any damn minute now_ …

 “…I’m too damn hungry. Perhaps we should order something in,” Harvey said.  

He peered at Jim and frowned. “You gonna to finish that, or what?”

Jim glanced back, the uneaten piece still in one hand.

“No… here, you can have it.”

Harvey couldn’t prevent the eye roll. “… just eat it, Jim,” he said sternly.  

Jim briefly looked like he would protest, but then took a nibbling bite. He swallowed and coughed, taking a meek sip of water. Harvey narrowed his eyes, trying not to waver with his stare until Jim had finished the piece of toast. If it was helping the man take care of himself, maybe he should try that tone more often… but, as he was such a sap for him, he didn’t know if he truly had the heart.

Jim set down the water glass with a noticeable _thunk_. 

“Has it crossed your mind that maybe I can’t eat human food anymore?” he asked. “We don’t know _anything_ about this situation.”

“Good point...,” Harvey replied. “But I doubt you’re gonna die because you ate a piece of toast… kind of a waste, really…,” he added dryly, earning a grateful smirk.

Thoughtfully he traced his fingertips over the whorls of color in the tail. Jim watched him expectantly, faint shadows under his eyes betraying the tiredness.

“… You know, Jimbo, this whole thing could be… like a case. We could try and make some conclusions about your… condition.”

Jim folded his arms.   

“Me being the case. What, _“Merman Studies 1-0-1”_?”

“Yeah.” Harvey smiled, inexplicably relieved.

Jim combed back his disheveled hair. “Okay,” he said. “Guess that’s an approach.”

“Worth a try, right? We’ve only got you. Can’t get at Strange’s files, they must have burned down with the rest of the laboratory.”

 “…all that evidence, wasted,” Jim growled. He shook his head slightly.

“Well, it’s happened. Maybe we’ll have another chance to take him down,” Harvey reasoned.

Jim shot him a dubious look.

“It’s possible, Jim. He’ll slip up, eventually. We just need to keep our eyes open.”

“Maybe…,” Jim said. He rubbed his head. “…Do you have a notepad in this dump?”

Harvey nodded. He managed to extract himself from under Jim’s tail and padded off to an overflowing mound which had once been the tabletop of the dining room table, never used.

“I think – oh, here we go.”

Notepad and pen flopped into Jim’s lap, who snatched them hurriedly before they got damp. Jim sat up a little more to write and balanced the notepad against the table. He stared at the empty page, before glancing up at Harvey.

“Where do we start?”  

Harvey stood next to the couch and put his hand on his hip.

“Well, let’s see… so you can breathe underwater, right? We’ve both witnessed that.”

Jim nodded, turned back to the notepad and wrote:

** Known facts: **

**\- Able to breathe air and water. Gills located directly behind the ears. Switch by opening or sealing gills and coughing up excess water or air.**

Jim paused, and then wrote: **Unknown if one of the breathing techniques could overrule the other in time, making switching impossible. ** 

Frowning, he added: **Unknown to what depth breathing still works? – Resistance to water pressure?? At least 30 feet seems likely? (Docks). **

Harvey smiled a bit and sighed. It was going to be a long evening if the merman wanted to solve all the mysteries of his new body in one go.

“Look, do you mind if I order in before we really get into this? Pizza, Pasta, Chinese? I’m _starving_.”

Jim didn’t look up, writing quickly in his flowing script. He was taking to the task like a fish to water (Of course he was, damn workaholic). “Sure. But don’t let the delivery guy see me.”

Harvey tapped the notepad patiently until Jim squinted at him. “What?”

“Nothing for you? Don’t know if I feel comfortable ordering in just for myself.”

The merman hadn’t eaten a thing except that piece of toast for – well, bordering on a full day now. It couldn’t be healthy… right?

 “I don’t know…,” Jim said, expression faltering.  

“Do you _feel_ like eating anything?” 

The merman shrugged hopelessly.

Harvey settled both his hands on his hips und pursed his lips. His eyes brushed along the tail, then went back to Jim’s face. “How does sea food pizza with extra shrimps sound, hmm?”

Jim gave him a mixture of a frown and a pout. “…Fine. Order that.”

“Good choice,” Harvey said. He placed the order while Jim continued writing. The next thirty minutes were quiet, the older man rumbling around in the kitchen straightening out a few things and doing the washing up so they had clean cutlery for dinner.

Jim thirstily sipped glass after glass of water, avidly making notes and deep in thought.

What bothered him most was the impossible fact of the tail itself.

How the hell had he been able to grow a tail in… what, a matter of perhaps five minutes? And did this rapid genetic transition mean he could somehow change back, too? He had been in extreme pain before, when he had had to swallow the formula, but only when he had been thrown into the water had the change happened.

He wrote:

\- **Change into merman upon coming into contact with water? Unknown.**

\- **Can I change back? Is the tail permanent or not? Unknown. **

He remembered the large tank back in Strange’s laboratory. Somebody else had been changed like he had. Was that how this other person had died? The body had been severely decomposed, it had been impossible to tell if it had been a man or a woman, once. It would also be nearly impossible to find out who this person had been, but perhaps they could try and investigate?

At that thought the merman sighed, spine curling.

Well, _Harvey_ could investigate. In his spare time. Without his new partner... whoever they would ask to take Jim's place...

What _Jim_ could currently do, or what future he could expect to have, was vague at best.

He wrote:

\- **Investigate the other test subjects? – Cause of death??**

Did monsters like him have the same life expectancy as humans...?

The formula had been perfected, that mad scientist had said. And the way he had known his name… perhaps Strange had been waiting for Gordon to come after him. Perhaps he wanted to make him into something else, use him as a test subject. Total loss of control was about the worst thing that could happen to him. And Strange, that sadistic bastard, probably knew that. It was true what the mad guy in the lab had said: There couldn’t be a worse punishment, apart from losing people he loved to violence.

He couldn’t quite remember what had been written on the side of that tank.

Something about _constant_ water contact? What did that mean?

He hoped it didn’t mean that he would dry up and die if he was left out of water… like he was currently, on Harv’s couch.

Frowning, he patted at his scales. The tail was still damp, tiny drops of water collecting in the dips of the curled muscles. The merman sighed tiredly.

 _If only I had more answers_ , Jim thought. _If only this had never happened._

He almost jumped when the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got it.” Harvey said automatically, running for the door as Jim made himself as small as possible.

Harvey pulled the door to the stairwell shut as he bantered with the delivery man and made the exchange. When Jim heard the delivery guy’s footsteps fade he risked a glance over the top of the couch. Harvey walked back in, two large cartons of pizza in hand.

“Its dinner time!” he announced happily, snatched up the knives and forks from the kitchen and dumped a large carton on Jim’s stomach. “Eat up, kiddo.”

Jim gave him a smile and put the notepad back down on the coffee table.

 _He looks more alive_ , Harvey thought. _Well... still super exhausted, but a little more focused..._

Harvey didn’t waste time and was well into his pizza before Jim even opened his box.

Jim started nibbling at a piece. The pizza had pieces of tuna and shrimp on it. Slowly, he took a shrimp into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. 

"... hmm."

Harvey gave him a sideways glance and nodded approvingly when Jim moved on to his next piece, slowly gathering speed as he ate. 

“Good?”

Jim licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. I didn’t notice I was actually hungry.” He looked back down at the rest of his pizza, eyes dwelling on another shrimp.

Harvey smiled, chest warm.

They spent the next hour or so chatting about other things. Jim thankfully didn’t push to go back to the notes right away, and Harvey wanted to distract the exhausted creature.  

Harvey tried his best to lighten the mood by telling him some old stories from the precinct. Jim had to cringe every once so often about the misconduct of fellow police officers, but nevertheless, he started to relax during the course of the evening, maybe because he was still so tired. He even seemed more comfortable with Harvey constantly touching and patting the tail, although the frowns and insecure glances stayed. Eventually, Harvey turned on the TV. They watched it idly, both trying not to think of the future.

When Harvey let his hands wander down the tail again and brushed over the last of the scales before the membrane of the tail fin, Jim sighed tiredly.  

Harvey let his fingers follow the fine lines of sapphire down the tail fin, stroking the supple membrane gently. Jim made a very small, surprised noise when Harvey started to massage the tips of the tail fin between his thumb and forefinger, still staring straight ahead at the TV.

 Jim blinked. “W-what are you doing…,” he mumbled.

He leant back against the sofa, back curling in against the ancient cushions.

“Just more of the case study,” Harvey lied smoothly. He tilted his head at Jim’s dazed expression.

God forgive him, but he really couldn’t stop himself. He had to keep touching.  It was wrong… but it was such a lovely sight… the way Jim’s neck arched slightly under the ministrations.

It wasn’t long before the merman was visibly drooping in his seat.

Jim gave a small yawn and rubbed at his face, hand dropping back like a leaden weight. His body oozed into the sofa. Harvey could almost see the tension leave the beaten man, leaving him boneless and pliant like a snake on a warm rock.

 “So, how does that feel, Jim?” Harvey said, thankful he even got anything out when his throat felt this choked.

Jim’s eyes struggled to focus. His pupils seemed blown, lashes long and lowering in that gorgeous way.

 “…nice…,” Jim murmured. “… Making me s-s-sleepy, though.”

“Well, you’re entitled,” Harvey said, keeping the tone safely light. “First comfortable place to sleep you’ve had so far. Get some more rest.”

Jim’s forehead creased slightly.

“B-but… uh…,”

“Don’t be stupid. We can think about the case again tomorrow.”

“… but H-Harv, you …,”

“Don’t you mind little old me. _You_ need to get your strength back. Can you do that, hmm?”

Jim nodded, head cradled by the cushion.

“ _Relax_...,”

“… hnn…,” Jim made, expression so vulnerable Harvey could hardly bear it. 

The next few minutes were quiet.

The faintest hue of pink dusted Jim’s cheeks as his eyelids slipped shut. His hands twitched, then fell completely still in his lap. Harvey let his nimble fingers rub and stroke along the fine membrane of the tail fin, morbidly and indulgently fascinated by the tiny snuffles falling from parched lips.

Harvey’s fingers were starting to cramp, but he continued. He wanted to make this as good as it got, and Jim hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet… the rise and fall of his chest was still light and conscious, on some level at least. Jim’s head tucked down against his chin, shoulders curling endearingly.

Then from nowhere, the strangest sound bubbled out of Jim’s chest.

It was a gravelly rumble, like the engine of a beautiful car, but softer, more alive. Slowly, the sound got louder, following a stop-start in rhythm. It seemed… sort of _happy_ … so it couldn’t be growling and it was definitely wasn’t groaning…

It took Harvey an embarrassingly long time, staring at Jim like an idiot, but finally, realization struck what the sound came closest to.

_What the - !?_

Jim was freaking _purring_.

Purring?!

The licking had been unexpected, but this.

This was so, _so_ weird.

Incredulous, he blinked, struck somewhere between horror and complete wonder at Jim’s utterly non-human response to the petting and stroking.

Harvey kept one hand on the tail fin, massaging it, but let his other hand wander along the whole length of the tail. Jim continued to purr, shuffling down even more until he was lying as flat as he could on the couch, the tail a beautiful crescent.  

The purring sounded a bit like a cat, but somehow a much bigger version… more gruff and raspy.

_More like a leopard than a house cat, perhaps._

_What in the hell is happening... what in the hell is happening to you, Jimbo._

_Why can I even think of it as cute._

_What’s wrong with me?_

He was so confused… but shit, he couldn’t deny there was _something_ about the sound that made him want to draw Jim close and continue the comfort, just smother him in blankets.

The soft reverberations humming through Jim’s body were… such a relief to hear.

Why did it make him start to feel so r _elaxed_ , too?

He knew, _knew_ he shouldn’t be enjoying this, but… _god help him_ , god have mercy on his tainted soul… he _was_ enjoying this.

Harvey had simply never heard a sound that depicted “contentment” as extensively as this.

As bad as he supposed he should feel about the fact that Jim was even capable of the inhuman sound… it was just, Jim actually _looked_ … content right now. His heart squeezed. It was a beautiful sight. Gorgeous.

 _Okay. So maybe Jim could do the freaky purring shit now, too…_ _he was still Jim, right?_

_The ability to purr … was extraordinary, even crazy… but wasn’t something that would harm the Boy Scout… right?_

Was it _that_ bad… was it such an evil thing, truly, if it showed that Jim could be the slightest bit _happy_ _and content_?

Jim turned his head against the sofa cushion, some of his hair falling down across his face. He started breathing deeply, the purrs changing, fading out into human-sounding faint snores.

And what was _wrong_ with him that Harvey was at this point: Now he couldn’t decide if he should be relieved or disappointed the purring had stopped… oh, he was so not coping.

It was only early evening, but Harvey realized he was dead tired (Or, he had never stopped being tired).

He wanted to stay close to his charge, but it was hardly feasible sleeping here, sitting up on his own couch.

Carefully, he wriggled free from under the heavy tail and stood up.

Jim’s snores halted for a minute, but he didn’t wake. Harvey decided he would go to bed and leave the door open – hopefully, Jim didn’t need to be submerged in water to be safe. His scales were still slightly damp, maybe it was enough. The merman didn’t seem to have a problem that he’d stopped being dripping wet a while ago.

Maybe Jim was right, he wasn’t made of glass. Harvey had been worrying too much.

No longer being held in place, Jim’s tail curled inwards and upwards in a loose circle. The tail fin twisted all the way up and over his rib cage. Likewise, Jim drew in his arms, his hands coming to rest under his chin and the cushion his head lay on. The fan of the tail fin fluttered and settled down over the side of his throat and his shoulder in a comforting blanket.

He snored on.

Harvey looked at Jim’s writing on the notepad for a moment as he placed the thing further away on the coffee table, out of harm’s way.

Changing his mind, he snatched it up once more, fishing for the pen beneath the empty pizza cartons.

He knew he was a terrible, _terrible_ person when he looked at what he’d written.

**Can purr like a Big Cat when he’s treated right** **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Would be thrilled to know what you think! 
> 
> I'm aware of the brief change in POV and back, but I didn't want the dialogue get so long again...I'm sorry.   
> Don't quite know how to fix it otherwise.
> 
> (((I AM SO TIRED.)))
> 
> Song Suggestions:  
> The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition


	8. At the strike of midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess we all have a fairly good idea what's coming!
> 
> I enjoy delving into the fluff, BUT this is a hurt/comfort fic, so expect exactly that for a while yet. Please head the MASSIVE WARNINGS for graphic depictions of HORROR and BODY CHANGES / HURT and some rather dark thoughts between the lines. Also, again shifts between POVs are happening. Take it or leave it, the chapter simply did not want to cooperate any further, I'm sorry if it's a little annoying. On the bright side, there is also cuteness and comforting here! It's not all dark, nevertheless proceed with caution. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you to all who have taken the time to read and my special thanks and love goes out to those who leave kudos as well as the commentators!!! You give me life, please don't stop <333

Jim woke up with a jolt and a sound of discomfort. 

Brief disorientation gripped him, but when he clutched the cushion of the couch beneath his head, he remembered where he was and gave a sigh of relief. His eyes cast a faint glow as he looked around, noticing he was currently alone. Harvey must have gone to bed at some point. Jim caught the sound of his friend’s faint snores through the half-closed bedroom door. 

Everything was… well, not _okay_. But he had a friend to help him through this disaster. That was worth a lot, not to be all alone. Also, sleeping on the couch was a lot nicer than the bath, to be sure. 

However, although he felt better, the tail didn’t seem to agree with the assessment of his back or upper body. Jim winced when he shimmied upwards to sit. Forcing a look down at his body, Jim felt his lip curl he saw the tail. Damn thing was still there. It was a part of him, and he could _feel_ it, feel the slight muscle cramps running through it… ugh. 

Was he ever going to get used to this…? He doubted it. Could an average Joe like him get used to this insanity? 

He couldn’t remember clearly how he’d fallen asleep. Harvey had done some kind of magic to his tail fin, and then he’d… drifted? 

God, how embarrassing. He seemed to be rapidly losing control over his faculties… that was worrying and dangerous. He couldn’t just constantly fall asleep like that. Bad enough to be a monster, but a crazy and weak one as well? 

That massage had been _really_ nice, though.  
His best friend sure seemed full of surprises… first all that show of uncommon strength on the stairs and at the docks, carrying him all over the place… his patience… now the massage? Harvey was trying so hard to help him, and how was he repaying him? But Harvey had said it wasn’t about owing anyone anything, and Jim knew that. Still, it unnerved him how much the sentiment reminded him of Oswald, as he used to be, when “that’s what friends did” and it hadn’t been about constantly repaying one favor or dubious deal with another, worse one. He’d never given Oswald what he’d wanted; never put his stamp of approval on their “friendship”. It had always seemed too dangerous, somehow, he hadn’t been able to ever fully believe the mobsters intentions. 

But Harvey seemed to have his welfare at heart, and maybe that was why Jim was trying to be more relaxed about the boundaries his partner crossed liberally. Harvey was Harvey… but he felt safe to be around, so _safe_ even Jim Gordon could let his guard down, just a little. 

Harvey’s fingers had been so careful with him, not probing and controlling, but gentle and warm. That had been… nice. And unexpected, how Harvey could relax him with the simple touch of his warm hands, skin stroking softly over scales and webbing. Jim hadn’t even been drunk… sure, he’d been tired, but not as tired as a few hours before… but Harvey had managed to… what, _pet_ him to sleep?  
((It didn’t take a lot of imagination how thrilled Oswald would have been to be allowed to pet him to sleep… Jesus, he didn’t want to think about the uncanny intensity Oswald was capable of when given half a chance.)) 

Jim rubbed his neck absentmindedly as he frowned, shifting into a slightly less uncomfortable position on the couch. His tail felt sore. Maybe he hadn’t slept as well as he thought he had.

Quite talented, Harvey’s fingers… the guy sure knew how to give an awesome massage with them, maybe the best he’d ever had. He’d heard Harvey bragging on endless stakeouts about giving all these women a great time in bed, maybe he should have asked for the details, or why Harvey kept insisting on telling him these vague stories of conquest in the first place. He’d always thought it had been some kind of special ability in the deep thrusting department why the women of the night loved Harvey … but maybe that had been the wrong assumption? Maybe his talented fingers had something to do with it. 

Not that it was any of his business anyway. 

Jim swallowed uncomfortably. He shouldn’t be thinking about this at all. 

Briefly, he wished could just _ask_ Harvey for another massage some day, because honestly, it had been nice; to only receive comfort and no pain for a change. It had been a wonderful respite from his normally so harsh reality. Maybe, confronted with so much nimble talent, Jim hadn’t had a choice but to fall asleep…  
Asking for another massage was off the table of course. Jim knew he couldn’t do that, didn’t deserve to ask for any comforts. It would be an odd request, even among close friends. It would make things odd. Or, _odder_. 

Harvey hadn’t seemed to mind all that casual closeness and touching … had even taken the hideous thing that adorned his body in stride. Hadn’t stopped petting and stroking the damn tail. As if it truly fascinated him and intrigued him. So was Jim being odd about this, then, making it into an issue when there was no such thing?

Maybe best friends did that kind of stuff where Harv came from… hell if Jim knew. It was possible, wasn’t it, that Harvey came from a much more laid-back background than he did? Had he ever really bothered to ask his partner about his childhood or youth? Just because Jim Gordon came from a strangely emotionless, conservative family, one who thought it counted as emotional bonding to send relatives he’d never got to meet in person in all his childhood a Hallmark Christmas Card once a year, he shouldn’t assume Harvey Bullock had had the same experiences. What Jim considered as crossing some serious boundaries, maybe Harvey didn’t even see as boundaries between friends? Maybe this was all part of the friendship with Harvey and he shouldn’t over think this. 

Like the hair petting… Jim couldn’t deny he liked it when someone was brave enough to mess with his hair… even if he knew he shouldn’t allow himself such… unnecessary indulgences, shouldn’t allow anyone to see the loss of control he ached for, sometimes, when it all became too much.

Hair petting wasn’t something you actually _did_ among friends. But then, hadn’t he done the same with Harvey? Well, it had been half-assed at best; that petting… and he’d been exhausted… and thankful… maybe he just got a little sappy in such moments, overwhelmed? Maybe Harvey did too. Although what could Harvey have possibly been thankful for was a mystery to him. All he had with Jim was work. 

Was the man this kind and gentle and casually touching with all his friends…? Did he _have_ any other friends? A good question. 

Jim certainly didn’t seem to have many friends apart from his faithful partner. Sure, Bruce considered him a friend… Jim felt more like a guardian to the kid, though, protective. Like a surrogate father, or maybe the tough uncle, not that he deserved the honor of any of those titles, of course. Alfred deserved them… but Jim, who seemed to only let the traumatized young man down? Nah! Also, it had always felt wrong to talk to the kid about his personal problems, and the age difference wasn’t helping there. He would never be able to tell the kid or his butler about all this… never. God, even the thought made him feel slightly ill. 

No one should even _want_ to touch him right now… or look at him with a friendly smile… not for any reason. He was a horrific creature, an abomination. Even before that, he hadn’t deserved any appreciation. He kept ruining everything, after all… hurting everyone he came close to. Harvey shouldn’t go out of his way like this for him. Jim was such a burden to his partner, the guilt hurt. 

He couldn’t understand why Harvey thought of the tail as beautiful. Maybe it had been a (bad) joke to lighten the mood? 

The tail… why was the damn thing getting so sore? 

Feeling the scales with his hands, Jim noticed for the first time how dry he actually was. The dry scales felt rough, even brittle, like beach glass about to crack. The flesh beneath the scales pulsed with a growing ache.

 _It… hurt. Why did it hurt?_

He was drying out, just like a fish on land. 

His tail gave a small shudder, another muscle cramp... 

_That sign saying constant water contact..?_

_Oh, shit._

With a sense of foreboding, Jim cleared his throat and looked at the bedroom door.

“Uh… H-Harv?” he called.

There was no answer. Harvey was probably still sleeping deeply. Maybe he shouldn’t disturb him… hadn’t he caused him enough grief for one day?

Jim turned back to look at the tail, brows furrowing as he carefully felt the tail again.

If he was drying out… would that kill him? He didn’t think so, but then… how could he know for sure? He didn’t know anything.

Suddenly, a stronger spasm rippled along the tail’s entire length. This one was strong enough that he had to bite down on his lip to prevent a groan of pain.  
Jim’s mind raced as he held his aching tail, grinding his teeth to keep silent.

_Should I call for help? But what could Harv even do? He could douse me in water, but do I want that?_

_What if this is the very escape hatch I’ve been yearning for?_

_If I wait it out… and assuming the transformation process doesn’t kill me – maybe I can change back?_

God, he desperately wanted to change back…! But the pain had been so _unbearable_ last time… unbearable enough to want to die.

Jim’s heart was thudding loudly in his chest as he let out a small pained whimper.

He couldn’t _live_ like this … being such a burden to his friend, helpless and dependent! He wanted… _ouch_ …, he wanted his life back! Worthless as it was, it was his!

It was a split-second decision, but he knew he wanted to risk it. Even if it killed him… even if it hurt so bad he would scream down the whole house… he wanted out.

_I need more room…. need to get away from the couch._

He tried not to think about the fact he might be thrashing about in a pool of his own blood in a matter of minutes. With a loud grunt, Jim rolled off the couch and onto the floor. By now, his tail was trembling and cramping painfully, some of the scales showing fine fractures.

Ugh, it _hurt_. It hurt a lot…!

If he was going to die screaming, he realized he really had to apologize for being such a burden. Had to say goodbye properly, this time, Harvey deserved that much at least. Maybe it was better this way, if he went out like this and gave his partner the chance to move on, eventually.

“H-HARVEY!!!” he shouted between pained whimpers as he dragged his heavy body away from the couch into the middle of the room.

“Wake up, something’s – _ugh!_ – h-happening! I ne-!”

He shuddered and sank to the floor with a loud cry as a sudden, white-hot pain ran up the whole length of his spine, turning his vision black.

Shit, he would have called out sooner if he had known how much this was going to speed up.

“Wh..?”

A confused groan came from the bedroom, followed by hurried, heavy footsteps.

He had to tell him how thankful he was… tell him goodbye, so Harvey could let him go. But the sudden onslaught of pain made it impossible to get out the words.

“I – I –I’m sor- _ARGHHHH!!!_ ” Jim cried out in anguish as Harvey appeared in the door.

“JIM???”

Fuck, he wasn’t going to make it.

_It hurt so freaking bad!!!_

The merman started shuddering uncontrollably on the floor, eyes rolling wildly as Harvey ran up to his side with a dismayed cry of his own.

“J-Jim, oh god!!”

Harvey kneeled down next to Jim and tried to grip his shoulder, but touch just seemed to set the convulsing merman off more. Sweat beaded on Jim’s forehead, fingernails drawing blood from his closed fists. Jim turned his rolling eyes to him, shaking his head.

“Okay, okay, stay calm…! I’ll -!” Harvey looked at the coffee table and the empty water jug. “Fuck. I’m coming!” he said.

“N-N-no water!!! L-l-let this happen!” Jim whimpered out. “Pl-“

He gasped. Before Harvey could do anything else, Jim’s pain-filled eyes went impossibly wide and then started to tear up rapidly.

Out of instinct, Harvey backed up on the floor, giving the merman room to start thrashing around wildly, sending a chair flying and tearing at the carpet. He couldn’t bear to watch… but his eyes weren’t reacting… he was frozen in horror.

“Oh god… oh _fuck… aaaAAARRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!!_ ”

Harvey watched mutely and helplessly as Jim gave a ghastly, feral shriek.

Rapidly, the transformation shook and re-shaped his body. The fan of Jim’s beautiful tail fin ripped into two flailing pieces with a horrible tearing sound. Meanwhile, the brittle scales on the tail seemed to fall apart. They lost their outer borders, colors and flesh running together into trembling blue-green membrane.

Harvey sobbed, overwhelmed and ripping at his own hair in his horror.

He needed all his willpower not to reach out and try and help Jim as his partner screamed and screamed and writhed into the matted carpet.

But he knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing. The uncontrollable transformation had gripped Jim and all he could hope for was that the Boy Scout would somehow survive the unthinkable.

_“J-J-J-im…. oh my god…,”_

He bit his lip and groaned in empathy as he saw the colors of the tail sinking back down into the warping pink flesh. A sheen of translucent fluid and sweat covered Jim’s body as he writhed, spasms shaking him. His glowing eyes had rolled up into his head, only showing the whites like in a remake of The Exorcist. It was truly horrible.

Jim could hardly breathe with the sheer intensity of pain pressing him into the floor. Harvey could see him panting in irregular spurts.

Suddenly the tail went rigid, and then split down the whole length as Jim gave the worst shriek of agony Harvey had ever heard, an animal cry of absolute anguish.  
The shivering pale flesh warped and bent back into the form of a male body, human legs snapping back into place as the bones remolded themselves, the membrane of the tail condensing into human feet.

Just when Harvey thought he couldn’t stand the enormity of Jim’s pain one second longer before going insane, the writhing stopped.

Jim gave a breathless, broken sob.

Slowly, the former merman curled into a fetal position on the floor, now naked and human. He lay there, shivering, face pressed against his new bony knees, tears spilling over messily in pain and shock.

 _“Aww, Jim...,”_ Harvey stammered out, his own tears spilling over. God, he was trembling too, just from witnessing that…!!!

Awkwardly, he grabbed a thick blanket from nearby and knelt down again next to Jim.

His partner didn’t react to him saying his name.

“Let me help you…,”

Slowly and hesitantly, like he was handling a glass figurine, he wrapped the blanket around Jim’s suddenly deathly cold body.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, you're okay…,” Harvey said in a shaking voice and gathered him into his arms, ignoring the hotness dripping down his face.

Jim stopped sobbing, but silent tears still traversed the planes of his pale cheeks. His eyes were barely open and dull, red-rimmed and puffy, while his hair was mussed and sticky. A complete wreck.

Slowly, Harvey guided his friend to lean heavily against him. “Shush… ,” he whispered.

Painstakingly, Jim crawled into his lap in a shivering bundle of blanket, hiding his face against Harvey’s shoulder. Harvey pulled the blanket up, right over Jim’s head to give him more warmth. Jim gave a soft groan, burying into the thick blanket.

Neither said anything for a few minutes.  
Jim concentrated on getting back in control of himself and his breathing while Harvey rocked him gently and rubbed small circles of warmth and comfort into his back, like a sick child.

The pain subsided, leaving the younger man feeling jittery and cold. His legs had pins and needles all over – but he was _whole_ , miraculously, and he had his legs back, he had _everything_ back!

Jim gasped brokenly, eyes snapping open in shock.

He was _human_ again – so he could change back!

“H-Harv… I’m okay n-n-now…,” he mumbled into his partner’s shoulder.

Harvey leaned back slightly to get a look at his eyes. His hand caressed along Jim’s jaw line and gripped him gently but firmly by the chin, so Jim couldn’t look away from Harvey’s probing stare. Jim didn’t fight the subtle show of dominance. He felt too tired to do anything except gaze back, leaning in to the steadying touch. It was nice to lean against the warmth of that hand.

“I’m okay,” Jim managed, blinking slowly.

“Jim, you’re far from okay.” Harvey’s verdict intoned.

Jim closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Harvey’s. “Maybe… c-cold.”

He felt Harvey waft a shaky breath against his face as he gently brushed back a few golden strands of hair out of his eyes.

“Okay, let’s take care of that. Let me get you up for starters…,” Harvey whispered, stealing a chaste kiss to his hairline.

Harvey carefully extracted himself and got to his feet, joints popping.

Jim sat on the floor, knees drawn up und hunched under the blanket. He gave Harvey a pleading look, blue orbs still red-rimmed and glassy beneath the crescent of lashes.

“Harv… I can’t s-stand.”

Harvey smiled softly. “Of course you can, Putz. Give me your hands,” he reassured. “I’ll help, okay?”

Jim blinked slowly, and held out one hand. The other wrapped the blanket tightly around his freezing body. His parched lips trembled.

Somehow right now all he wanted was to be carried. But he couldn’t ask for that.

“I won’t drop ya, Jim.”

Harvey’s warm fingers wrapped around his chilled ones and pulled.

In a moment, Harvey had hoisted him up. Jim clutched Harvey’s shoulder with a gasp, scared his legs wouldn’t support him after the ordeal he had gone through. His whole frame shivered under the blanket as he leaned against his friend with almost his full weight.

The floor seemed far down, and his legs felt like two frail, bony stalks. Harvey let one arm circle Jim’s waist to support him. Jim’s first step made him sob slightly, a mixture of gratitude and fear. He walked like a new-born deer, ungainly and unsure, but… he had legs again.

“You’re doing great. Remember, I’m right here“ Harvey said, holding him close. “Take it nice and easy, okay?”

Harvey’s body heat and his sturdy hold were more than welcome. Jim felt so horribly cold and weak as he clutched at his partner’s shoulder with another faint sob.

After a few steps, he slowly became more sure walking on his own two feet and didn’t lean into Harvey quite as heavily as before. It was a huge relief when he made it to Harvey’s bed and could sit down on the messed-up covers.

“W-what just happened to me?” he asked as he pulled the blanket closer around himself. He was still trembling.

Maybe this was just a dream?

“Well, Jim, I –,“ Harvey began, then stated simply: “Buddy, I think you became human again.”

Jim blinked down at himself.

_Oh... yeah. I’m… human. And humans have…_

_“…legs,”_ he stated. Disbelief and hope seemed at war in his tone of voice. “I – I have l-legs!”

“You do, you lucky bastard,” Harvey said with a slowly growing grin. “You’re completely back to normal, apparently.”

“Y-yeah…,” Jim said, rubbing his fist at a teary eye. “I c-can’t believe it…,”

He gazed at Harvey and smiled when he felt strong arms gather him into a happy, crushing bear hug. “Congratulations that you managed to live through an unthinkable transformation. _Twice_ ,” Harvey said. “Unbelievable, man. You’re a breathing miracle.”

“T-Thank you…?” Jim said, briefly forgetting himself and shamelessly nuzzling into the warmth of the hug. He didn’t want to let go, but did eventually, feeling scrutinized under the lift of Harvey’s eyebrows. “C-Cold,” he stammered out defensively.

Harvey tilted his head and pushed at Jim, so that he fell back on to the bed.

“You scared me _bad_ , man.” 

“Uh… sorry.” Jim stammered.

Harvey sighed and shook his head at him. “Well, I guess I should have seen that this wasn’t over yet, right?”

Jim blinked at him, eyes huge and red-rimmed.

“Get into bed, idiot, you’re freezing! What are you waiting for?”

Jim crawled into the bed without protest, blanket and all. Harvey’s bed was still warm from when he had vacated it just a few minutes earlier.  
Jim sighed in relief even as he felt conflicted he was now stealing Harvey’s bed on top of everything.

_Maybe the bed was big enough for both of them?_

No… he couldn’t say it. That was definitely a boundary. He was a bad person… but he _couldn’t_ … could he?

“You really need to rest, Jim.” Harvey said kindly, oblivious to Jim’s conflicting thoughts. He pulled the covers back up over his form. “Rest and get warm…,”

“Uh,… Harv?” Jim said, eyes starting to droop with exhaustion.

Fuck, he couldn’t. He just wanted to sleep… _again_.

“Yes?”

“Could y- I mean, could I… burrow some clothes of yours?” Jim said in a small voice from under the covers.

Harvey forgot to breathe for a moment. “Sure. I mean, of c-course…,”

He handed Jim a few items from the chest of drawers. “Here, these are nice and comfy, ‘kay?”

“T-than-ks…”

Jim didn’t waste time getting into the oversized clothes, still shivering with cold and depleted energy.

Harvey resisted the urge to stare and turned away, feeling strangely light-headed and faint as he heard worn fabric settle over naked skin behind him.  
“You can look now,” Jim’s voice wafted over, reedy but faintly amused.

Harvey’s expression had to be bordering on outright doting, he thought, when he turned to look back at the newly-human Boy Scout, swamped in a faded black Band shirt of his, dark blond hair childishly wild, as he tremblingly tied a tight knot in the cord of the too-large blue boxers with his slender fingers.

_Oh god._

Whatever his expression looked like, it was enough for Jim’s blue eyes to widen a little and a softness to enter the planes of his pale, drawn visage.

Almost in slow motion, Jim settled back into the warm bed. Harvey piled all the covers back on top of him as both men traded weary smiles.

Jim sighed, nuzzling at the soft quilt tickling at his cheek. “B-But Harv…,” he croaked out. “What about you?”

“Me? I couldn’t sleep another wink if I tried. I’m totally going to watch over you for the rest of the night.”

Harvey leaned in. “You gonna argue about that, Boy Scout?”

Jim yawned, eyelashes fluttering beautifully. “… no. M’fine with that…,” he murmured, surprising Harvey. “Just....so weak… feel like I’m sleeping all the time.”

Regaining his composure, Harvey chuckled. “Well, you haven’t been sleeping very well, or very comfortably. Plus, it’s about five in the morning. I think it will do you good to get in a few hours of shut-eye in a proper bed, Jimbo. Ideally, without any more horrible wake up calls, hmm?”

Jim gave a small nod. “Yeah... s-sounds nice...,”

He nuzzled at the covers again with the faintest mewl. “Hnnn… nice… and w-warm,”

Harvey smiled.  
“I’ll be back in a minute. Just want to make you a hot water bottle. You’re still pretty much freezing cold, aren’t ya?”

Jim peeked at him sleepily, only his eyes and his nose showing over the covers.

“Y-yeah. A bit,” he conceded.

He tried to keep his focus when Harvey leant down again to stroke his hair out of his face, but his strength was all gone.

Harvey felt so safe. _Safe_. Like home…

“Well, there ya go then. Uncle Harvey knows all…,”

“M-mmh…,”

Jim couldn’t help his eyelids from slipping shut. The tenderness of the stroking through his hair was just so nice...too relaxing to resist.  
Harvey turned at the open doorway. “I’ll just be a minute, Jim," he reassured once more. 

“Hnn-ngh.”

When Harvey came back into the room, Jim’s breathing was already slowing, bordering on sleep.

Harvey tucked the water bottle under his friend’s feet.

When he brushed against Jim’s ankle, the sleepy figure gave a small sound. It sounded awfully close to a purr, but Harvey couldn’t be sure. He straightened and looked his partner over one more time. The man was curled up into a ball, only the top of his face visible above the covers.

In the brief time he had been gone, random golden strands had fallen forward again, hanging limply into Jim’s closed eyes. Harvey sat down on the edge of the bed, and watched his chest rise and fall. Fondly, he carded back golden-brown strands yet again, smiling when he felt the texture slip between his fingertips.

_Still so beautiful… and still so reckless._

He let his fingertips wander over the shell of an ear. It was unexpected that his fingers felt the fine ridges of Jim’s gills, sealed tightly shut. But, they were still there…

_Maybe he’s still changed. He just doesn’t appear so at first sight, but he is._

_Oh, buddy. What am I gonna do with you, hmm?_

As if to prove his suspicions, Jim gave another of the small sounds. A faint happy rumbling emanated from his chest as Harvey petted at his hair ever so gently.

The man could still purr, even if he had his legs back…

Harvey gave him an experimental scratch behind his ears and felt his lips quirk when Jim sleepily pressed his head back against his fingers, a louder, raspier purr escaping his throat at the delicious friction.

“…sleep well, Jim. And no more transformations, please.”

Jim didn’t answer, he just oozed back into the cushions with a snuffle.

Harvey smiled anyway, settling into his rocking chair in the corner of the room with a blanket and his own hot water bottle.

He would watch over Jim for the rest of the night. That was the least he could do after such a scare, and no one was going to stop him.

It was better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was weird. I had to make life-changing decisions for my future. That would have been difficult enough, I suppose, but then odd things that usually only happen in movies actually happened to me. So frankly, I'm exhausted and a little confused, physically and emotionally, and don't know what the hell to think about anything anymore, except maybe "Hell, WTF was that?". Sorry if you were faced with terrible typos because of this, please know I tried. 
> 
> P.S. Independent of the above, I am also thrilled and grateful about last weekend. Go see your Gotham stars if you ever have the chance, people! <333


	9. Adaptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys struggle to adapt to difficult circumstances. This chapter is less fluffy, had to change it up a little to convey a lot of information you will be needing as the plot slowly returns. Nevertheless, the warnings of the last chapter still apply, however markedly less graphic elements here, alright?
> 
> I promise there is a slow burn happening, but you're gonna have to be patient with me here. (((It's a very sloooowwww burn, I guess... :D)))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was basically finished yesterday, but due to me live tweeting for hours to show support for this fantastic series, I can only post it now. Join us on twitter, people. Gotham needs you.  
> #SaveGotham #ForGotham
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated, always. Thanks for reading!!! <333

Harvey was getting sick of having the same argument again and again. Jim’s stubbornness was a thing of legend, but this was plain stupid.

“Jim, five stars to your dedication to your job and all, but you can’t be serious! No way can you keep this under wraps,” he yelled at his partner currently pacing though his ramshackle kitchen. Jim was on his own two legs, dressed in some too-big baggy pants and another black band Tee of Harvey’s.

The Boy Scout stopped his pacing through and glared at him in defiance.

“How many more times do I have to say it, Harv? Did you expect me to disappear on permanent sick leave? Can’t stay in your flat forever! Can’t sit around... and do _nothing_!” Jim yelled back.

It was two days later and Jim Gordon was starting to go up the walls. It would probably have happened even sooner, if the situation had been less problematic.

Once they had found out in the most horrific way that the tail wasn’t permanent and Jim could change back, it hadn’t taken long for Jim to get restless about hiding out at Harvey’s. His whole being was literally itching to go back to work and drown himself in the problems of others to forget his own, to pretend everything could ever be fine after something so profound had been done to him. To try and forget he was a monster with scales, just under the surface of human skin. He ached to forget it, but his partner was refusing his cooperation.

Harvey was holding him back from returning to the GCPD after what had happened. He even seemed more worried than Jim himself was about what would happen if anyone found out Jim’s new scaly secret.

The past two days had been revealing and exhausting.

After morphing back to human form for the very first time since the incident at the warehouse, Jim had been totally drained well into the next day, mostly sleeping, rolled into a ball under the covers of Harvey’s sheets.

Understandable after that kind of a traumatic experience, the Boy Scout had been very tense about coming into contact with water again at all. It had taken Harvey hours of begging to coax Jim to finally drink something that first day.

Drinking a glass of water or other liquids like coffee or tea hadn’t facilitated any change, to both men’s extreme relief. Parched and panting slightly, Jim had chugged down two liters of water after the coast seemed clear. Feeling better after that, Jim had become a little more active, making more notes on the things he noticed about his condition.

It had been beyond awkward and not all that funny when Jim had seen Harvey’s note about the purring and confronted him in the light of day. Harvey had described it, and Jim had gone real silent for a long while, dropping his gaze and being overall embarrassed and pensive. All Harvey had wanted to do was rub comforting circles into Jim’s back again, when he looked so pensive and unhappy and broken. But somehow, with Jim more awake and human, more his usual standoffish self before the warehouse, Harvey suddenly felt boundaries were snapping back into place that had crumbled over the 24 hours before.  Jim was back to insisting he was fine and keeping a semblance of distance when in his human body.  And he definitely wasn’t purring. Not at the moment, anyway.

But Jim’s tribulations had only just begun. The tail didn’t stay away for long, to his despair. Harvey argued later during their “Merman studies 1-0-1” that no matter how Jim was in denial, maybe he needed to accept that his human body wasn’t the natural default setting of his genetic makeup any more, but the merman body.

Nothing was over like they had hoped.

It was bad.

Agreeing they had to continue experimenting, it had only taken a few drops of water to find out how bad and maybe unmanageable Jim’s new situation was.

Jim had suspected something like that could happen and had stripped down to his boxers in the bathroom, before he tried to wash his hands. For the first 30 seconds, everything seemed fine.

 Harvey remembered Jim’s relieved grin as he turned the tap off and turned to dry his hands. Before he could reach it though, he had stiffened, eyes widening comically before collapsing like he had been struck by lightning, shrieking in pain. The change took him swiftly. Soon Jim had his merman tail back again and lay gasping on the floor, boxers shredded. As he wasn’t actually wet with his merely damp hands, it only took a few seconds of drying his hands with the towel before Jim was able to switch back, reverting back to his human form with another shriek.

Apart from the horrific transformations, Jim’s obvious inner meltdown as he realized he was in no way truly healed had broken Harvey’s heart all over again. Jim hadn’t even complained about Harvey rocking him on the floor for an hour until his quiet sobs and angry mutterings had died down.

Although it had taken an enormous toll on Jim, he insisted to continue their “merman studies” that same day. As they found out quickly, just the addition of a few drops of pure water, if it came into direct contact with any of Jim’s human skin or hair, had the ability to start the shift or change. Any contact with water turned him into a merman if he wasn’t fast enough to wipe it off himself immediately. After 10 to 30 seconds of water contact, the change couldn’t be prevented at all even if Jim had managed to wipe it off, as further experimentation showed.  

Jim could drink water and any kind of fluids, they could touch his lips and the inside of his throat without becoming dangerous and facilitating the change. But just a splash of it to his cheek or even touching some condensation water on the outside of a cold glass could be enough to expose him and his little problem. Jim didn’t shift due to his own fluids, he didn’t grow a tail by his own sweat or anything else (Yes, those had been a few awkward minutes Jim had insisted to have alone in the bathroom).

It had been extremely awkward when Jim had insisted Harvey spit at him and smear a sweaty hand across his skin, but swallowing bravely, Harvey had obliged.

Sweat didn’t seem to always facilitate anything, but in copious amounts it did make Jim shift, as well as spit. It was left up to Jim’s and Harvey’s respective imaginations whether other bodily fluids would have the same effect or not, Jim didn’t have the stomach to ask his best friend for that and Harvey didn’t have the stomach to offer.

After the bearing the strain of six changes in a time span of two hours, whereas he had been completely finished after just one change the day before, two more things became apparent about Jim’s condition.

First of all, with each change he went through the transformation process itself was speeding up. After water contact of thirty seconds, now the total time for Jim’s transformation to finish was often less than another half a minute. At the end of first day, Jim was morphing so fast he hardly had time to scream any more before he had his tail or his legs back. At least he suffered for a shorter period of time now, Harvey told himself, although it still wasn’t pretty to watch the flesh to tear and repair itself again and again, a short Horror flick on speed dial.

Secondly, Jim was somehow managing to deal with the strain better, not losing as much energy as before with the shift. The pain was intense as before, but he felt it becoming easier to bear. It was now something he trusted his body to survive through, like a mother of four children might be less worried about giving birth again, even though it still hurt like nothing else and it wasn’t exactly a thing you looked forward to.  

Nevertheless, no change was a walk in the park, and after six of them, Jim was very tired and later on became positively ravenous. Harvey had had to order in twice that day because Jim just seemed to burn through the food he ate. In the evening, Jim fell asleep mid-sentence on the couch, not even stirring when Harvey decided to carry him once more to the more comfortable bed.

The second day, Harvey had gone back to work, but insisted Jim still call in sick and stay in the flat. Jim had agreed reluctantly, lying down on the sofa and dozing, the Gotham news channel running all day on television.

When Harvey came home in the early evening, Jim was eating his third tin of sardines, a little wild around the eyes as he sat on the kitchen floor with his knees drawn up. 

“Harvey, I’m sorry. But I was so… _so_ _hungry_ …it only stopped when I started eating this,” he explained in a plaintive tone.

He licked a bit of sardine off one greasy finger as Harvey wordlessly took in the complete mess of his kitchen.

It looked like a hurricane had struck. Jim had managed to open every can of food Harvey possessed, trying to find something he could eat in his desperation. The fridge was raided and all the cupboards were ripped open. Used plates and spoons of food stood everywhere, until Jim had either run out of spoons and forks or completely lost patience, cramming food into his mouth with his hands.

Harvey had stifled a deep sigh and helped Jim to the bathroom to clean up, fully aware what that meant. When he came back to the bathroom after cleaning up the worst of the mess in the kitchen and ordering in Chinese takeaway for himself, Jim had fallen asleep in the bath with the tail curling over his head again. He hadn’t wanted to change back, adopting to sleep in the bath after his food frenzy.

That had been yesterday, Harvey remembered.

Just freaking _yesterday_.

And now, the morning of day three, the fourth morning since the incident at the warehouse, a once again human Jim was seriously implying he was ready to go back to work.

And the older detective was so done.

 _No way_ , Harvey thought. _No freakin’ way._

“I know you can’t stay in my flat forever, Jim. And I’m not asking you to,” he said patiently, although he felt closer to punching his partner. Jim closed his eyes and rubbed at his head.

“Harvey –,“

“No, Jim!” Harvey interrupted. “Look man, I’m just asking you to give yourself a few more days to figure more of this shit out. Do you really want your colleagues to find out you’re a cousin of flipper? What about the press, Jim? What about _Strange_? You don’t have a handle on this yet.”

Jim just stood there, looking at him like he often did, slightly overbearing with a hint of hurt in his eyes and working his chin.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong… I know you’re worried…,”

“Damn right I’m not wrong! Jim, if you think death is the worst thing that could happen to you if this comes out, think again. You have to be _sure_ about this one, Jim, you have to be _safe_ ,” Harvey huffed.

“Can’t you understand I need to face this head-on, not mope around and hide?” Jim said and continued his pacing through the kitchen. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Harvey, you know that. But we know enough about my condition now to handle it! It won’t be _easy_ , but I need to get back to my life...,”

“Jim, you're wrong about this. Even you shouldn’t be this reckless. Someday, your luck is gonna run out!”

Jim felt himself smile mirthlessly. “That’s life. We will all see our luck run out if we manage to stay alive for long enough.”

“I don’t want to see that happen!” Harvey looked away. “I can’t see that happen. Not to you.”

There was a pause as Harvey rubbed at his eyes, then he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. He looked up to see Jim giving him a strangely empathic look. His eyes were deep, so deep Harvey felt like he could drown in them if he wasn't careful. 

“Harvey, please. _Please_. Going crazy staying cooped up here. I promise I’ll try my best to stay safe...just. Can't you back me up in this?"

Harvey shook his head.

His partner stepped closer.

"You're not being rational."

" _I'm_ not being rational? You should hear yourself."

Jim's eyes wandered over his face, searching for something, always searching.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Harvey felt the weight of the younger detective leaning up into him. Jim let out a breath, his arm circling, a loose loop around Harvey's neck for the barest moment. 

"Look... I’ll even listen to you occasionally at work, how about that? But I can’t put this off any longer. It's killing me, Harv...,” Jim’s voice was soft on the surface but decided beneath.

“Fuck, I curse the day I ever had the misfortune to meet you…!!,” Harvey groused darkly. "Goddammit Jim, you really are gonna be the death of me!"  

Jim smirked faintly as he stepped back, both of them knowing he had won him over.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not good in captivity,” he said gently. “Come on. Duty calls.”

“Seriously? Even with a fish tail, Jim?”

Jim glared, but his voice was gentle when he answered: “Even so, not staying away from where I belong. Honestly I'd prefer you at my side."

“Lord, have mercy on us,” Harvey declared to the ceiling.

_I'd also honestly prefer to stay at your side, Jimbo. Cause that's where I belong._

                                                                                                   

***                                         

 

Captain Barnes had been less than impressed with their explanations about both being shot at and getting sick after going after a lead on Hugo Strange days ago without having at least bothered to tell anyone at the precinct what was going on beforehand and thereby breaking protocol  - yet again.

There was a fair amount of shouting that ensued in the Cap's office, involving mostly Barnes and Harvey, and now and then a gruff bark from Jim. They all felt rather tired when it was over.

In all fairness, Jim knew Barnes was right and he had lead his partner and himself into a dangerous situation. Grinding his teeth, he silently accepted Barnes’ long angry reprimand and his decision to put them both on desk duty for the near future and him pulling them off several running cases.

Nevertheless, it stung his pride.

“It could have gone worse, Jim,” Harvey said reasonably to him from his desk. “At least we’re both in one piece and surprisingly not yet fired.”

Jim gave him an appraising look and nodded.

He stifled a sigh when a colleague made a point in banging down about a hundred yellowing cold case files on his desk and smirked at him. “’Bout time the old man took you down a notch.” he said. "Always toeing the line, Gordon." 

“Yeah, yeah, Mendez. Mind your own damn business,” Jim grumbled back and pulled the first file toward him.

He didn’t want to be ungrateful.

Less than 48 hours ago he had thought he would never be able to get back to his life, never be able to sit in this chair again. Considering the alternative, he should be grateful for even the most boring or unimportant work.

This was about continuing with his life and keeping his head down until he had his condition under control.

Jim was very quiet and meek all day and didn’t even get angry when several of the other colleagues who hated him tried to rile him up. Harvey saw it in the small gestures how much it was costing Jim to stay unobtrusive during the many hours, in the glint of his eyes, in the tenseness of his shoulder blades under the blue suit jacket. To just keep on working at his desk stoically without even raising his eyes to observe others roughly manhandling suspects into the crowded cells, to not spring up to lead the charge of the police force during a bank heist in the afternoon, to not acknowledge the people in the big hall waiting to speak to an officer of the law, it wasn’t Gordon. But he was trying. 

Jim refused to join Harvey for lunch, holding up a wrapped tuna sandwich with a small quirk of the mouth.

“You sure?” Harvey said, but Jim just gave a shrug and let his eyes drift over to the windows.

“Yeah.” he said shortly.

Harvey felt a bit bad when he focused on the dirty panes and noticed raindrops dripping down. “Oh.” he said. He hadn’t even noticed. “Okay. Well, uh, good you’re prepared.”

Jim smiled a little more genuinely. “I’m trying, Harvey.” Harvey clapped him on the back as he headed out.

“Know you are, Boy Scout. Keep your nose clean while I’m gone.”

The afternoon was just as quiet as the morning. Jim threw himself with all he had at the most mundane things, as long as he didn’t have to leave the security of his desk.

He didn’t get up once, which did make Harvey a bit worried.

“Hey, Jim?” he ventured, wiping some powder sugar away from the file in front of him.

“Hmm?”

“Have you – you know – had anything to drink?”

Jim looked up from the file, expressionless.

“No.”

“Jim…”

His partner scowled at him and then went back to his file.

“ _No_.”

“But –.”

“ _Christ_ , Harvey. You’re worse than my mother,” Jim grumbled under his breath.

Harvey sighed. “Sorry, sorry.”

Jim continued to work in silence, but Harvey couldn’t stop himself from trying again.

“As long as you’re careful… you know you need to drink something at some point, don’t ya?”

Jim’s head snapped up. “Harvey, give it a _rest_. I’ll have something when I get home, alright?”

“Okay…” Harvey said unhappily. “Just so that you know, I don’t think you can do this every day. It’s just not healthy.”

Jim’s snort was a little hurtful, but Harvey took it in stride. Until now, he had never shown much consideration for health, so it was a little ridiculous to be pestering Jim about this. He just couldn’t help it though. He really didn’t want anything else to happen to Jim, and for all he knew Jim could be more easily prone to dehydration with his condition.

In the early evening, Harvey sighed loudly. “Okay, Jimbo, I’m calling it quits for the day. It’s almost seven.”

Jim grimaced as he looked at his neat notes and three different piles of case files. “I’m… not nearly finished for the day.” he said in a mildly irritated voice. He sat back in his chair and massaged his temples. “Dammit. These case files must have been cobbled together by chimpanzees, that’s how much sense they make! I need to finish this pile, at least.”

“No, leave it. You’ve given enough for one day.”

Harvey came around to Jim’s desk as he shrugged into his leather jacket.

“Come on. I’m not leaving without you on your first day of normality.”

“Fine. Perhaps you’re right.” Jim stood up and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.”

“Car’s round the back.” Harvey said, leading the way.

He opened the door to the back police parking lot. It had stopped raining, but there were large puddles everywhere, the grates hardly helping to drain the uneven blacktop. The car lot was almost deserted, only two other cars and Harvey’s beat-up excuse for an automobile still patiently waiting for their owners.

Jim dug his hands deeper into his coat and hunched his shoulders.

“It’s damn wet.” He said tiredly, steely eyes roaming over the puddles. “At least it’s stopped raining.”

Harvey gave him a sideways look over the upturned collar of his jacket. “Would you like to wait here and I’ll drive the car over?”

Jim glanced at him and gave a small nod.

When Harvey drove over, he was careful to go slow so as not to send some of the puddle water flying in Jim’s direction. He stopped a few feet away just to be sure. Jim, gingerly avoided the worst of the water and jumped into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Harvey queried, glancing at Jim’s wet shoes.

“I think so…” Jim said, carefully kicking off his shoes and pulling his socked feet up onto the seat. “Yeah,” he said, relieved to see the socks were dry.

He gave his partner a sheepish look. “M’fine.”

“Good.” Harvey said. “Then let’s get home.”

The streets were fairly empty for the early evening and they were almost at Harvey’s place when Jim cleared his throat lightly.

“Drive me over to my place,” Jim said. Harvey looked at him. “Please, Harvey.”

“Hmm. Alright. If you think you can handle it?” Harvey said.

“I can.” Jim said, glancing at him in the half-dark of the car. “I must.” He said as he turned his eyes forward again.

“Uh-huh...,”

The streets were very wet around Jim’s run-down apartment building, even the pavements covered in a thin sheen of water. Harvey stopped the car near the doorway and turned off the motor. Even though it was quite busy during the day, at night Jim’s side street didn’t see a lot of passing cars. Jim slowly slipped his socked feet back into his shoes and stared out of the car window.

“Maybe I should start going to work in gum boots... sure the colleagues would enjoy it,” the Boy Scout said with an edge to his voice. He looked over at Harvey and gave a small smile. “Thanks, for driving me to my place tonight.”

“No problem. Sure you’re going to be alright?” Harvey said, eying the wet pavement.

“… sure, it will work. It’s just – what – five strides to the door. I can make it.”

“But your shoes are wet already. Five strides - what if the water seeps through by the time you get to the staircase, huh?”

Gordon’s expression tightened. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, I… could carry you?”

Jim blanched, but his voice was completely toneless as he said: “Carry me.”

“A suggestion, Jim," Harvey said. 

Gordon looked at the pavement, his shoes and Harvey a little anxiously. “Hmm,” he grunted. 

_What if someone saw them?_

Harvey got out of the car and rounded it, opening Jim’s door. “Come on. Better safe than sorry, right? It's not far." 

He couldn’t be sure in the dark of the car's interior, but Jim Gordon seemed... embarrassed.

"It's alright. Don't need your help, Harv."

"You don't want me to carry you?" Harvey straight-up confronted, keeping the tone light and teasing. "What's the holdup, partner? It’s not like it’s the first time,” he said to Jim with a smirk. 

Jim swallowed and licked his parched lips, mumbling something under his breath.

"You're overthinking again," Harvey warned him. "Look, just let me see you safely to the door, alright?"

Jim frowned and nodded. "A-alright. Just to be safe."

He held up his arms where he was sat in the passenger seat, hestitant and tense as Harvey bent down.

Harvey let Jim hook his arms around his neck and slipped his own arms underneath Jim’s ass and knees, hoisting him up and out of the car and against his hip with a grunt. Jim let out a small puff of breath as he felt the weight shift, closing his eyes and tucking his head against Harvey’s chest instinctively. In no time Harvey had made it to the doorway. Gently, he set Jim down on the top step, away from the dangerous moisture of the streets. 

“There you go,” he said softly.

Jim straightened his coat and gave Harvey an almost shy look from beneath his lashes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, fingering his key. “Good night, Harv.”

“Good night, Jim. Do me a favor, stay safe, hmm? Please be careful.”

Jim looked so frail for a moment that Harvey had to control the inappropriate urge to step even closer and stroke along his cheek. 

“Will do,” Jim said with a faint, lop-sided smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You’re collecting me tomorrow? Usual time?”

“Absolutely,” Harvey said, 

Jim nodded, relaxing slightly. “Night then.”

“See ya...,”

The Boy Scout glanced at him from the corner of a blue eye as he turned away.

Harvey's heart felt heavy when he left.

It felt like he was going home missing something absolutely vital... he didn't want to think about this right now. 

                                                                                                                             

***

 

By the time he had mounted the two stories of stairs to his own apartment, Jim felt terribly thirsty.

Shakily rattling the key as he opened the front door, he entered into his run-down abode. He looked around, glad to have finally made it home. Harvey must have been here once while he was crashing at his place. The trash can was empty and the air wasn't as stale as usual. It also seemed as if Harvey had stocked up.

He was such a considerate friend... really, Jim didn't deserve the kind of time Harvey was devoting to help his - sometimes scaly - ass.

Carefully, Jim shucked out of his damp shoes and left them under the heating to dry, then hung up his coat and crossed over through the living room into his bedroom, dressing down to his boxers quickly. Relieved as he was that nothing had happened at work to reveal his condition, it sure was tiring to keep alert like that. And all the details that spelled danger to him now. Sickening. But he really was trying to adapt to this craziness.  

Perhaps he _should_ consider that idea of wearing gum boots to work. He could change into his normal shoes once he got there. It would be safer.

It wasn't fair for Harvey to resort to... carrying him everywhere. Even though it had been sort of nice, he supposed. 

_It felt safe when Harvey carried him... like he couldn't get hurt._

A weird thought. He couldn't deny it was true, though, even if it was completely inappropriate to even _want_ that.

He entered the kitchen and carefully poured himself a glass of water. Jim couldn’t stop a desperate noise from breaking free when he had swallowed the first mouthful. God, was he _thirsty_. 

Did he _want_ to be carried...?

Of course not. It was weird to want that. And inappropriate. Also he needed to think of Harvey's back. His weight was probably hurting him.

Where Jim came from, best friends did _not_ carry each other... but then, the situation hadn't ever arisen, either. And why should such a situation ever arise, under normal circumstances? Harvey was only offering it to keep him safe, as a friend. He was offering it because Jim was a monster now, that could grow a fish tail in a matter of seconds... that was why. 

He emptied the water glass quickly.

Thirsty. Felt like he was _dying_ for water! His throat felt parched, and his body was definitely shaking now. Hurriedly, he poured and downed a second one.

“W-what the...,” Jim mumbled when he noticed a few small flakes of skin flutter down from his arms, and how chapped his dry lips felt.

Too dry... but why did he care? He didn't even _have_ the tail right now. He shouldn't _need_ to care about being too dry...! 

It wasn’t only his throat that felt parched. His whole body was suddenly aching for water. Perhaps he should have had something to drink at the precinct, but he had honestly considered it too great a risk, especially if he had to go to the men’s room afterwards. Which was next to the locker room. And then all the colleagues with their damp coats and trails of water from the showers… no, he had deemed the whole thing too risky.

Maybe he had pushed himself a little too hard.

Now he was dehydrated just because he'd tried to play safe...? Damn, what next... 

Okay, fine. A bath it was, then. Ouch, his back wouldn't be happy... he would make it work, though. He had to...

He passed the bathroom, turning on the taps to run a bath, then returned to the kitchen, noticing he was getting hungry too. 

Trembling, he opened a can of sardines and took it back with him into the steamy bathroom, setting it down next to the half-full tub.

He made the best plan he could think of. It would be the first time he would be alone with the shifts, and there was no one there to carry him or help him... he needed to to smart about it, if he was to be able to cope alone. 

Jim laid down several towels over the floor and hooked up the hairdryer and laid it on a stool he could reach from the floor. Jim also retrieved his alarm clock from the bedroom and set it to twelve at night. That way he could spend half the night recuperating in the water and the other half in his bed. Then, he took off his boxers and after a deep breath clambered into the bath.

_Here we go again..._

The change took him quickly, but there was enough time for a loud groan of pain and several whimpers. When the morphing was over, tears welled up out of nowhere. Suddenly, he felt a little lost. 

_Despicable. Get a grip._

Jim sniffled and let the tears fall into the steamy bath water as he curled up his merman tail as best he was able to.

Clutching the tin of sardines, he started eating with his hands when he realized he'd forgotten the fork. The tears felt hot as they dripped down his clean-shaven cheeks, and he didn’t even know why he was crying like this, darn it. He guessed he was feeling sorrier for himself than he’d hoped.

He was beat after a long day, and a fish out of water, literally. 

He'd never wanted this. Not _this_.

Perhaps it was okay to be overwhelmed. He was still having issues processing all this insanity. This injustice that had been done to his body.  

Water felt good on his poor dry skin...

Jim licked his fingers clean as he continued to sniffle, bravely trying to ignore the soothing effect the strange action had on his psyche. Finally, the empty tin was dropped to the floor. He put on the shower head and drank his fill, enjoying the feeling of cold water running over his gills.

That felt a lot better...

 _Maybe I should try sleeping underwater tonight?_

When the bath couldn’t get fuller without spilling over, Jim shut the water off. It was a relief to push his head underwater, even though it always hurt to switch between water and air all he wanted in that moment was to feel the coolness surging through the fine membrane of his gills. He sighed, folding as much of himself as he could get under the surface of the water.

It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do. It wasn’t like he had a pool to sleep in... that would be sort of nice... 

In barely five minutes, he was asleep, bubbles trailing upwards. 

He flinched when the alarm went off in the middle of the night. Hurriedly, he sat up, coughing up water and batting at the thing.

Groaning the merman heaved his body onto the toweled floor and rubbed himself dry as best he could. He shoved the wet towels to the side. Biting his lip when he thought of the neighbours, he set the hairdryer to a low setting to finish the job.

The change hurt like it always did. Jim whimpered into the tiles as scales and fins gave way to skin.

_This is harder than I thought. Must I do this every night now...?_

It took a while to gather his strength to leave the bathroom.

Jim felt his lowered merman temperature now felt far too cold when he returned to human form, and subsequently, his teeth were chattering.

Cursing and shivering, he tugged on long pajama pants and a Tee, and a thick hoodie on over it.

He stumbled dazedly into the darkened bedroom, his eyes casting weak pools of light.

All he wanted was to sleep.

_Comfortably, please. Just for a few hours... it's not too much to ask._

Fumblingly, he reset the alarm clock, stifling jaw-cracking yawns.

Finally, Jim bundled himself into the bed with a deep sigh, drawing up his knees and pulling the blankets up over his head and nuzzling at his hands close to his face.

Sleepily, he barely noticed his tongue darting out, licking at the thin skin of his wrists for some much-needed comfort.

He didn't care any more. He was tired. So freaking tired.

_Maybe Harv was right... maybe I can't handle this._

 

Exhaustion of a long day at work and two changes dragged Jim back into oblivion in minutes. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't a little much, I would like to dedicate this chapter to the series of Gotham. The very last episode of Season Five is airing next week, so, at least concerning FOX, the end is nigh! Even if none of those responsible for the series ever read this, I mean I sort of hope they don't, ever (It would be super embarassing otherwise, right? Also don't sue me, I have no money), I'm just gonna go all out here and say "Thank you" into the ether, because I want to show appreciation any way I can. So thank you, #Gotham, for giving us fans such wonderful characters, a noir playground and the best prequel to the Batman universe anyone could have ever wished for, as well as so much more. And as it's Easter, and Easter is about rebirth, let me just say this: You never know. This series will NEVER be dead to me, no matter what happens next it will live on in my heart forever. That's a promise ;).  
> SONG SUGGESTIONS:  
> Eric Prydz - Every Day (Original Mix)
> 
> The song text fits so well:
> 
> "If every day goes like this, how do we survive? (... How do we survive?)
> 
> We're working late on the night shift, to get peace of mind..."
> 
> Sorry for the ramblings. As Fish Mooney once said in the series, "I'm a little stressed."


	10. Better watch that work ethic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... here we see some canon-typical communication problems, I guess ;). Change of POV was quite fun to write. This is a fairly short chapter. Next one will have the usual length. Enjoy, and thank you for reading :).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait. The end of Gotham, among other things, has kinda fried my circuitry.

Harvey was very punctual when he pulled up in front of Jim’s apartment building the next morning. Sleep had not come easy. Scattered thoughts had worried at him all through the night, his stomach slowly churning under the covers.

He knew it wasn’t the fault of the extra-portion of fried onions he’d ordered at Billy’s on the way home, or even of the copious amounts of Whiskey, along with a main course of chili-dogs. Billy’s diner generally struck a nice balance between mind-numbing hot grease and free shots, and service was a busty blonde beauty who didn’t ask stupid questions when a grown man came in with an expression like he had worn yesterday. In other words, it was the perfect place to go to when you needed a moment. There was nothing not to like there.

The man waiting for him inside the doorway of the apartment building was why he felt so restless and worried. Harvey was locked in an intricate dance with him, trying not to overstep, yet to be available, for anything. That was tiresome, to say the least.

_What in the hell is he wearing?_

Overnight, the rainy weather had stopped and the puddles had drained away. Nevertheless Jim was bundled up in a dark blue GCPD rain coat, sturdy hiking boots and a very solemn expression. To top it off, he was wearing gloves, blindingly white ones.

Harvey stared as Jim spotted the car and briskly crossed the street towards him.

_Did he have those from his time as a traffic cop? Gonna tease him mercilessly if he keeps those on._

Likewise, a glance at Jim’s hair as he closed the distance to the passenger door told an interesting story. Jim had neatly parted and combed back the strands. However, lacking the usual hair product to keep it a hard, immaculate sheet, his hair had settled into gentle, shining waves. A golden-brown strand fell forward as he walked, already lightly tousled by the morning breeze.  

_It’s so soft…_

The look was another startling chink in his partner’s armor. Impossible not to think back to how it had felt like, when he had had the chance to run anxious fingers through that faintly resistant, glossy hair… listen to the wonderful sound of Jim sighing in contentment and see his shimmering tail curled around him, all in the strange pocket universe of Harvey’s bathroom.

Harvey guessed Jim must have been pretty worried about the product containing a certain percentage of water and had therefore decided to not risk a potential time bomb like that. Everything they tested during their “merman studies” could mean another painful transformation for the poor man. So, upon Harvey’s insistence and for the sake of Jim’s wellbeing and health, there was only so much they had tested to date. He’d been pretty adamant that Jim better not try and push past the single digit numbers. If Jim became that rabidly hungry and bone weary after a handful of shifts, which they had both witnessed days ago, maybe it just wasn’t worth knowing the repercussions of even more transformations per day.

It made total sense that Jim was trying to deal with the blanks in their studies by leaving out the hair product. Looking like he currently did though, Jim was projecting vulnerability like a damn billboard, especially with the addition of the oversized rain coat and the ridiculous gloves. That his best Bro could become jarringly frail and cute when he had his tail was old news. But that Jim didn’t look untouchable at all now, not even when he had his legs and was all suited up for work? That did come as a surprise.

It was worrying, this vulnerability on display, because others who knew Jim Gordon would no doubt be able to see it. That could become a problem when they ran into Cobblepot next time, or Nygma... even Lee. The Cap would probably take notice as well, like Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne and his butler, but with them Harvey was fairly sure they could keep their thoughts to themselves and not cause further harm.    

His heart stumbled in the cavity of his chest as Jim neared the car and gave him a faint smile. It didn’t help with the mental imagery when Harvey saw Jim brush the strand behind the shell of one ear in a mildly annoyed gesture, or when he observed the strand curl behind it, endearingly rebellious to the last.

He’d thought he had happily resigned himself to kneeling at the guy’s feet, taking any bone Jim was willing to throw him. Walking away had become impossible years ago. He had mostly accepted his role, albeit with an aching heart. But that had been before Jim’s internal voice had reached piercing levels. Harvey feared his endless patience might be wearing thin. A burning desire to touch and straddle was starting to overcome him on a worryingly regular basis when he interacted with Jim. It was only human to want these things… although granted, maybe not with your best Bro, an emotionally constipated, bullheaded shapeshifter.

The urge was rising to milk that gorgeous, flickering submissiveness beneath. Let it wear down Jim’s stubbornness until he all but melted into Harvey’s touch. Allow him the honor to take care of him, mind, body and soul. He yearned to give Jim what he seemed to need, namely someone to take charge, just a little. A gentle leash, a loving touch, freely given and willingly accepted.

He didn’t want to push. He wanted to coax, draw his closest friend out of his dark hole of closeted self-hatred and trauma. Show him there was another way. Nothing was worth sending him further into a downward spiral though. It was complicated with the Boy Scout, always had been and always would be, maybe.

_If only he would ask, I’d give him anything he wanted._

_Keep it together, Bullock._

Jim swung the door open and peered in.             

“Morning.”                                

“… Mornin’. Hanging in there, Jimbo?” Harvey greeted as Jim hopped into the car. The hair gave an adorable flop as his head fell back against the headrest.

“… yeah, I’m good,” Jim said.     

A dirty lie, if Harvey was to be any judge, considering the lackluster of the eyes that glanced over at him.

“So, what’s her name?” Harvey said nonchalantly, pulling the car away from the curb and joining the morning traffic. 

Jim turned his head to look at him.

“As if I would tell you her name,” Jim snarked. A typical response, but the delay was definitely worrying.

“ _Aww_ , come on. If she tired you out so well, I wanna to hear the juicy details,” Harvey egged.

That earned him the eyebrow.

“Who says she tired _me_ out?” Jim countered.    

Good. There was a spark of sass left.

“Rings under your eyes are a bit of a giveaway. You look like you pulled an all-nighter.”

“Maybe I did…,” Jim said, hiding a yawn. “Kept her busy on all fronts.”

Harvey chuckled. God, Jim sounded like he was explaining a battle plan, not courtship.   

“Uh-huh. So you willingly satisfied all her needs, like a good little Boy Scout?”    

“You could say that. I was through,” Jim said, lips tugging upwards by a fraction.

“Thorough, huh?”

“ _Very_.”

Okay, something about that was all kinds of hot, if Harvey was honest.

“Proud of you, brother,” he drawled, with all the casual aloofness he wasn’t feeling.

A vaguely sarcastic smirk winked up, almost a baring of teeth. It was quickly hidden when Jim turned to look out the window at the passing Gotham traffic.

_Had the Boy Scout gotten any sleep at all?_

“What’s up with the weather man look?” Harvey said, changing the subject. “Like the gloves.”

Jim frowned at his hands. “That bad?”

“No, they’re great. If you were a circus act.”

Jim pulled the white, close-fitting material off his fingers. “Thought it a good idea,” he offered with a sigh.

“Yeah, I get it,” Harvey said as he stared ahead and took a right turn at the next light. “But not gloves. It will draw too much attention,”

Jim nodded and wordlessly pocketed the gloves. A deep line appeared between his eyes as he stared at his hands resting in his lap.

“Oh god…,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“…doesn’t matter,” Jim said with an irritated shrug. “Random thought.”

Harvey studied him, wondering what Jim wasn’t talking about this time.

“You think you gonna get the hang of this so quickly? Covering up every inch of skin won’t work. Not without raising a lot of questions.”

Jim frowned. “Yeah. There has to be a way to fix this, though…,” he groused. He glanced over sharply. “Don’t you dare say “ _Yeah, stay at home”_. That’s not an option, and you know it.”

Harvey sighed.

_You can’t fix being turned into another species, no one can. That thing is sort of final._

“I’m just worried you’re pushing yourself. It’s too soon, Jim,” he said after a pause.

“Worked out yesterday…,” Jim pointed out.

“Lucky breaks happen,” Harvey supplied. “Still, going back to work like this, every day like clockwork, no safety net?  Train wreck waiting to happen. Not sure I can help you in time _when_ it happens, and I’ve gotta be honest here, that part is majorly freaking me out.”

Jim’s sigh was terse.

“Shouldn’t have mentioned it. Now you’re starting the same argument again.”

Harvey frowned at the traffic, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

_Stubborn as a mule._

He shot Jim a tired look. “We need to look the situation in the eye. Honestly, you worry me, Jim. Water worries me. And this is Gotham, for fuck’s sake! I mean, it rains every second day!”

“What do you want me to say to that?” Jim said and rubbed his head. “That I’m worried, too?”

His lackluster orbs sought out Harvey’s.

“So, I’m worried. Changes nothing, though. I’m not going to stay at home and hide. I need to go to work – you know we’re needed there. The City needs all the help it can get, and I’m not clocking out because of a… minor inconvenience.”

Harvey held his eye roll in check.

_A minor inconvenience? Get outta here. Is he really worth so little to himself?_

“Really hope you can get a handle on this, brother…,” he said, having a hard time swallowing his extreme annoyance.

He pressed his key card against the machine. The car rolled onto the parking lot of the GCPD and came to a stop with a creak of old tires.

A brief, slightly tense silence spread between them.

“Promise to ask me if you need anything? I want to help, if I can,” Harvey said.  

Jim gave him a self-deprecating smile and nodded.

“Sure,” he lied.                                             

*

Their second day back at the job was basically just as boring as the first.

Tons of yellowing cold case files had to be sorted and re-evaluated.  If any new evidence had cropped up since the case file had been closed, there was a chance that the case would be re-opened, but it being Gotham, the chances for that happening were usually slim. It was a thankless job Barnes had punished them with, and didn’t they know it.

Harvey gave their overflowing desks a flat, unimpressed look. He excused himself with a wink to get some coffee and a donut before he even touched the first file, ignoring Jim’s glare at his usual work ethic. Jim eyed the coffee machine warily as he shrugged out of the heavy rain jacket. His gaze traveled to the door leading to the men’s room and locker rooms. The worried line between his eyes reappeared. He sat down, doggedly picking up where he had last left off.

There had to be a way to fix this. Make it a reality again that he was human. That he was normal.

_Be grateful you still have a job._

If he tried harder, he would make it work.

_Concentrate on the case file._

It wasn’t important that he couldn’t use the men’s room… he would cope.

He had been okay yesterday when he hadn’t had a drink. Well, very thirsty when he got home… and so dry… but it would be fine… right?

_Stop whining._

Grimly staring down at the sheer numbers of unsolved murders, rapes and thieveries, Jim accepted his fate yet again, sorting and reading through the files for hours and staying at his desk.

Soon enough, he was absorbed in his work, ignoring Harvey’s occasional glances at him over the tower of files, or how dry his tongue felt in his mouth.

_Minor inconvenience._

He felt uncomfortable and restless reading about the rot and corruption seeping through his City’s pores, but there wasn’t much of a choice. It was his current task. The cases he was reading about were old, sometimes more than a decade. Jim knew how highly unlikely it was to ever close these cases. What really got to him though was the fact that the same thing was still happening to this day in the same quantity. As if the police wasn’t making any difference. Since the mob wars between Fish, Don Falcone, Maroni and others, the resulting power vacuum had just led to more bloodshed, not any more civility. Gotham had gotten worse, not better, since Jim had started working at the precinct.

A depressing thought in those long hours, crouched over case files nobody cared about.

_If you did your job better, less people would get hurt._

_So do your damn job. Learn from these mistakes. Learn from the corruption and idleness of your predecessors._

At first, Jim didn’t think there was another explanation for his vague queasiness and discomfort. The confrontation with the horrible things he was reading about and the cold certainly no justice would come to these victim’s families certainly was enough to explain the reactions of his body.  

But, as the hours progressed, the discomfort grew, and then his thirst returned with a vengeance, joined by a feeling of heat.

Jim ground his teeth.

_Make it work, dammit._

It wouldn’t be so bad. He knew he couldn’t shift without water. It had to be better like this, safer.

_Mind over matter._

He stayed put.

Again, he didn’t join Harvey for lunch break, although he might have liked a breath of fresh air.

_You have done literally nothing to deserve a break, anyway._

Yes. It felt wrong to get up from his desk, after hardly making any progress at all. And with the queasiness, Jim argued to himself, it wasn’t like he was hungry.

He was fine.

 

Really.


	11. Under the weight that brought us here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People, I hope you read this summary / warning catalogue, for your own sanity and well-being. This chapter is something else. PLEASE take the warnings seriously. Also, this chapter is VERY LONG (+9K WORDS!!!) and basically plays out in real-time. You best read it with some chocolate or something comforting nearby, okay? Prepare yourselves. 
> 
> WARNINGS for MASSIVE JIM GORDON TRAIN WRECK. Like, mind, body and soul. To cite Professor Pyg, "It's a spectacle."  
> It's THE MOST HEARTBREAKING THING I've EVER written. I felt quite choked up writing it down.
> 
> WARNINGS for: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ANGUISH, SELF-HATRED, MESSY MENTAL BREAKDOWN, Men crying brokenly, brief loss of Self... following from that, Comforting Themes (maybe slightly dub-con if you squint). Just when you think, okay, so THAT was the train wreck happening, the REAL burning inferno will just come at you. I hate giving too much away, but in this case I'm totally warning you about an emotional double-whammy ahead of time.  
> Sappiest fluff and almost-love-confession at the end! 
> 
> Please, if you have the time, I'd be really thankful to know what you think <3.

It had been a quiet, worrying morning for Harvey.

He could accept it if Jim missed lunch break – even before the events of the past days, he hadn’t always joined him for that if he was engrossed in something – but the Boy Scout hadn’t had a single glass of water, or a cup of coffee all morning. What the hell was he thinking?

“Please drink this, ‘kay?” Harvey burst out at last in the early afternoon. He set down a glass of tap water at the edge of Jim’s desk, careful not to let it spill even the smallest drop.

Jim glanced up coldly.

“Not helping,” he grumbled, leaving the glass untouched and returning to the case file.

“Jim.”

Jim looked up again, eyes narrowing. He looked a little sweaty around his hairline.

“Look, please drink it,” Harvey said. He lowered his voice and added: “The glass is dry. It’s safe if you sip it. I promise.”

Gordon swallowed. “Thanks. But I’m not thirsty.”

“No, you’re thirsty. You’re scared, aren’t ya?” Harvey confronted. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Talk to me.”

“Not thirsty,” Jim repeated, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“ _Fine_. Tell that to yourself!” Harvey said.

Jim glared down at the case file as if it had wronged him.

“Leave it _be_ ,” he groused.

“I can’t. Would you at least drink something out of sight? I dunno, Jim, _in the bathroom_ , if you don’t want anyone around?!” Harvey whispered angrily, missing Jim’s flinch at the word _bathroom_. “To me, you’ve gotta be thirsty by now!!”

No reaction.

“Jim, I’m _begging_ you. Don’t be a dick.”

Jim sent him a steely glance.

After a convert look around the bullpen and the balcony where they were sat, he downed the water in three quick gulps. Harvey saw his eyes flickering over his fingers, searching for signs of moisture. Then he stilled completely, glass still in hand and staring at the tabletop.

_Counting down the seconds in his head._

Nothing happened.

After half a minute, both of them heaved relieved sighs. Jim’s mouth worked when he noticed they had been in sync.

“There you go, Putz,” Harvey said, relaxing and going back to his swivel chair. “Not so bad now, was it?” he added in a good natured tone, smiling at him encouragingly.

The younger detective tried to tamper the need to glower.

Of _course_ it was bad. How could Harvey be this flippant? Did he think this was a game, or what?

“Whatever,” he supplied, face a mask. He wasn’t going to talk about this humiliating subject. Ever, if he could help it. It went too fucking far.

Briskly, he turned his attention back to the next case file, ignoring Harvey’s pout at his hostile behavior.

Jim was feeling unnerved and uncomfortable. He was determined to make this work, so it _would_ work. He’d been trying all morning to be _smart_ … to be sensible… then Harvey pulled this stupid number on him. He shouldn’t have obliged the man. Sure, the thirst was still prominent… even after the drink. His throat was dry and he felt hot under his collar, whole body getting sweaty beneath the crisply ironed shirt. But he could deal with that inconvenience _just fine_. He wasn’t made of glass, he could deal with a few things _alone_. Had dealt with it yesterday, hadn’t he?

_Going with a strain he knew had to be preferable to risking everything…_

To Harvey’s dismay and growing annoyance, Jim did not ease up. He point-blank refused to have anything else to drink, no matter how much he begged him. Jim seemed ridiculously standoffish all through the afternoon.

Hydration was important in a hot, stuffy office, anyone knew that. Maybe not in the form of endless glasses of water - none of the police officers around were that into their own health. But one or two glasses of water, and maybe a few cups of the horrible brew they preferred to call coffee, counted as a daily standard around the precinct. Not hard to imagine that in the case of Harvey’s fishy friend, regular drinks could be, well, _pivotal_. If you were half a fish, in secret, maybe you shouldn’t be pushing yourself harder than all the human officers around you.

Harvey was aware that it was a risky situation for Jim to drink the very substance that could turn him instantly. But if his friend truly wanted to face his new reality and insisted on going to work like everything was fine, wouldn’t he trust Harvey enough to be his barman? He knew Jim was pig-headed, but this level of stupidity felt kinda hurtful.

_Is he too worried to trust me to judge a dry glass?_

_What is your issue, Jim?_

Harvey finally gave up on the constant pestering, hoping the man would come around on his own when he got thirsty enough. Jim’s tendency towards self-flagellation was obvious, but Harvey hoped he wouldn’t go as far as to risk his life.

But in those slow hours of boring desk duty, Jim didn’t say a single word about his physical discomfort, which kept Harvey guessing when he needed to step in. Jim kept working like a machine all through the afternoon.

Harvey noticed his partner start to swallow awkwardly every few minutes as the working day faded into early evening. A few beads of sweat had gathered on Jim’s forehead. The man gave a tired, almost mournful sigh, turning yet another page.

When Jim’s breathing turned heavy and his throat and cheeks started looking flushed, Harvey had long had enough. Jim wasn’t coming around.

_Of course he wasn’t._

“Jim?”

“Hmm?” Jim mumbled. He looked distracted. And ill.

_Idiot. I want to throttle him._

“You alright over there?” Harvey asked, peering at him closely over the top of his reading glasses.

“Yeah. It’s just… this is heavy stuff to read,” Jim said, turning a page. He wiped at his brow.

_At least his own sweat wasn’t a danger to him. Small mercies._

“Jim.”

This time, Jim squinted as he looked at Harvey again. “Trying to hold my concentration here. What is it?”

“Sure there’s nothing else going on? You look a bit… feverish.”

“Yeah?” Jim said. “No, I think I’m okay…,”

Harvey stood up and rounded the desk. “Can I check something?”

Jim straightened in his chair and gave him a wary look.

He moved his head back when Harvey tried to touch his forehead. “Wait.”

“Relax. You’re not in danger, except by your own stubbornness, that is.”

Jim tensed, but stayed put, allowing his partner to press the back of his hand against his forehead. He sighed at the press of Harvey’s comparatively cool hand against his heated skin, eyelashes wavering.

“… I’m fine,” he insisted between clenched teeth.

Harvey kept his hand where it was, fingertips touching sweaty tendrils of blond hair. He frowned worriedly. “Don’t like this. You have a fever. Not too bad yet. But bad enough.”

“Tired, that’s all… and these case files...,” Jim said, determination in the set of his jaw. 

_Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?_

“Don’t think there’s anything in there that could faze you this much,” Harvey reasoned, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Let’s call it quits. We could have clocked out ages ago, anyway,”

Jim made a shooing gesture as he peered back down at the file.

“Look, you turn in, but I’m not going anywhere. I nee -,”

A firm, large hand on Jim’s shoulder distracted him from finishing the sentence.

“This isn’t a democracy, knucklehead. You look _ill_. Time to _go home_ ,” Harvey said, in a tone that surprised them both.

 Jim sized Harvey up in open, wordless challenge, lip starting to curl.

“Not a democracy, huh?” he said, tone dangerously flat.

His blue eyes seemed to brighten in the darkening bullpen, but only Harvey was close enough to see that it was the bioluminescence kicking in and not a weird trick of the light. Although, maybe there was some anger mixed in there as well.

“Not when you’re acting this recklessly,” Harvey said, fingers tightening around his partner’s shoulder and flicking on Jim’s desk lamp with his other hand to hide the brightness. “Come on, don’t make me drag you out of here…,”

For a split second Jim actually looked _hurt_ at Harvey’s word choice, before the mask of anger covered it.

“I’m not _being_ reckless…,” he hissed.

Harvey didn’t budge. His fingers tightened in the flesh between Jim’s neck and shoulder, his own anger and annoyance finally getting the better of him. He’d had enough of this, _in chunks_.

“ _Enough_. I’m serious,” he said, all warning growl. He twisted his thumb harshly into the his partner’s flesh. Jim’s eyes widened minutely at the pain.

“I’m _not_ -,”

“ _No_. I don’t wanna hear it, Jim! We’re leaving,” Harvey informed him, cold rage making him grip Jim like a vise.  

Obstinate, the other man held his gaze for a few threatening seconds. 

“ _Harvey_ …,”

“ _What?!_ ” Harvey almost snarled at him.

Jim just shook his head.

“…n-never mind,” he mumbled, wiping a drop of sweat from his hairline. “You’re being a dick, that’s all.”

“Sure. Now _get your coat_ ,” Harvey heard himself say. 

Scowling, the Boy Scout obeyed. His cheeks looked quite pink and his eyes brighter by the second. It wasn’t just the bioluminescence any longer, but a rising fever, Harvey was sure of it.  

“… _Fuck_ …,” Jim said. He glowered as he shrugged into his raincoat. “Wish you would mind your own business…,”

The redhead said nothing. He jerked his head, unimpressed by the glower.

Jim’s face caved slightly. Another drop of sweat rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with an annoyed sigh. 

“Jeez… _alright_ …,”

His breaths sounded close to pants by now, heavy and winded. The flush to his cheeks and neck was becoming rapidly more pronounced. Jim really didn’t look altogether healthy.

Fuming at Jim’s behavior, Harvey grabbed his own jacket and tipped his hat to the desk clerk yawning in the background. Then he firmly pushed Jim down the stairs, almost like escorting a culprit.

“ _Harvey, that’s enough!!_ ” Jim hissed under his breath, but Harvey kept his hand where it was, in the firm curve of his lower back.

“ _Walk_ ,” he pressed out.

He guided Jim down the side of the bullpen and through to the back door leading to the parking lot.

As they trudged in tense silence towards the car, Jim stumbled.

“… _ugh_ …,”

That sudden pained sound was enough for Harvey to feel concern override most of his anger.

“Jim?”

“M’fine…,” the man insisted. _God_ , but was his partner stubborn.

Harvey saw that his hands were shaking as he bundled himself into the car.                           

Jim closed his eyes when he was seated. More beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as Harvey slid behind the wheel. His breathing sounded pained and harsh.

“ _Shit_ , man, you look terrible! What’s happening?” Harvey said urgently, starting the car and clearing the GCPD parking lot like a madman.

“D-don’t know...,” Jim mumbled darkly, eyes scrunched closed in discomfort. 

“I _told_ you you’re ill!” Harvey snarled.

“Hot…,” Jim admitted. He leaned against the cool window pane.

“ _Dumbass!_ ” Harvey scolded, wanting to reach over and slap his friend in concern. “You’re severely dehydrated, and who knows what else!! Taking you straight home.”

Jim nodded. Pants fell from his open lips.

“We’re gonna have a talk after this, later, okay? First let’s get you home…,”

Jim nodded again, weakly. Sweat was dripping down his face. It seemed as if his strength was leaving him even as they spoke.

Harvey considered driving Jim to his place, but then decided against it. Jim’s place was much nearer, and right now, it seemed every minute counted.

Recklessly he ignored several red lights, other cars swerving and hooting at him. He didn’t focus on anything unimportant. All he wanted right now was to get Jim home to safety. The man had stopped talking five minutes ago, pants harsh and hard like a dog as he leaned heavily against the passenger door, and Harvey was already out of his mind.

The car pulled up with a roar, complaining when Harvey threw it into park.

_Sorry, girl._

Quickly he rounded the car to the passenger door. It seemed to cost the other man to get out of the car, and as soon as he heaved himself out Harvey saw why. Jim was shuddering. Each step he took was a skewed challenge on the tarmac. Jim tried warding off Harvey’s tries to support his arm, the scowl returning.  

“I-I can d-do it…,” he groused darkly, hugging himself as if he felt sick or cold.

Harvey grabbed his rain jacket and almost shook the other man. 

“Stop resisting! Let me help you!!”         

His friend just looked at him, eyes half-closed and bright with fever. His expression was _lost_ , an unexpected dagger to the heart.

“It will be faster if you let me help!” Harvey said.

Jim swallowed, eyes drooping. Sweat was pouring down his face.

Harvey let his arm circle around Jim’s trim waist, not waiting for further acquiescence. He could feel a frighteningly intense heat even through the layers of the rain coat as the other man sagged against him. Jim clutched at his shoulder for support.

“P-please…,” he panted out. “D-don’t feel so g-good…,”

_Oh fuck. It was getting serious if Jim said please._

“We’re almost there,” Harvey reassured, trying to stay calm although this rapid deterioration was alarming.

Jim was burning up in his arms.

They made it to Jim’s door and stumbled into the flat together. Jim let Harvey lean his weight against the wall to be able to close the front door and lock it. Meanwhile, the Boy Scout tried to take off his coat. His arm got stuck in the one sleeve for a second, flailing childishly until he managed to shed the outer layer at last. 

“… _T-thirsty_ ,” he rasped through parched lips. He missed the hook of the coat stand, his coat crumpling into a messy heap.

In the half-dark of the flat, his eyes showed their bioluminescence, glowing centers unfocused as he heaved his body away from the wall. Jim took a shaking step towards the kitchen before Harvey could stop him. On the second step, his legs gave way, making him collapse to his knees with a groan.

“ _Urgh_ …,” he whimpered, hunching like he was going to be sick. “… _hurts_!”

“ _Shit_. Bathroom. Right now,” Harvey said, scooping him up.

Jim gave a moan, as if it hurt to be touched, but didn’t fight being carried off like some medieval virgin.

Harvey set him down on the lip of the bath and steadied him.

“Okay, uh. I’ll run the bath. You get your clothes off…,” Harvey said with forced calm, worriedly feeling Jim’s forehead again. Jim leaned into his cool hand.

“W-w…w-water…,” he begged, panting harshly. “I n-n-nee…d…,”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

The Boy Scout felt baking hot, like beach sand in the midday sun.

“Hold on…,”

Jim peeled himself out of his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor while Harvey threw on the taps. He gave a whimper when he heard the water behind him, twisting as if he wanted to fall into the bath fully dressed.

Harvey clutched him by the shoulders.

“ _Wait!_ You could hurt yourself if you shift like that.”

Jim wasn’t listening. He squirmed and groaned in his grasp, desperately trying to get at the water. In alarm, Harvey slapped him.

“Hey, whoa, _focus!!!_ ” he ordered, voice jumping an octave in his concern for his friend. “ _Jim!!_ _Stay with me!_ ”

That seemed to help. Jim let himself fall forward, away from the water. He arched up against the side of bath in a sinuous move, raising trembling fingers to undo his shirt buttons.

“P-please… _w-water_ …,” he gasped out, only getting two buttons undone.

By now, his pants sounded more animalistic than human, incredibly desperate and uneven. Jim was soaked to the bone in his own sweat, his clothes clinging to the taunt lines of his squirming body.

“Working on it!!” Harvey barked. He loosened Jim’s tie with deft fingers and pulled the dressy article away.  

Wordlessly, he looked at Jim’s dress pants, socks and white shirt.

Jim seemed to be trying to focus on his face, but his eyes looked hazy under his dripping lashes. A drop of blood ran down one side of his face where his parched lips had cracked open, mingling with the beads of sweat.

He tried to open the rest of his shirt, but his hands were shaking so bad, it was hopeless.

“…let me,” Harvey said, voice cracking. He pulled off the man’s perfectly white socks.

Jim dropped his hands. He sat there, squirming and trembling, as Harvey tried his best to effectively manhandle him out of his clothes. His eyes looked wet, all focus lost, his tongue pushing past his teeth in open pants. Harvey ripped off the sweat-soaked dress shirt, revealing Jim’s heaving stomach.

Almost mechanically, Jim looked down at himself. He gave a sudden, horrible snarl and started to scratch at his arms and stomach with a vengeance. Flakes of pale skin fell off his arms like dry bark as he dug in his short nails, quickly drawing blood as he lashed out at the wrong body.

“ _No, don’t scratch!_ ” Harvey reprimanded. Flinching, Jim managed to stop, but his eyes were rolling dangerously. Blood welled up on one of his biceps from one of the deeper scratches, tracking down his arm.

Harvey knew there was no time, yet he hesitated when he realized Jim was nearing nakedness, all except for his pants and belt, the metal GCPD badge glinting against one trembling hip.

It was hot, obscene, _wrong_.

Jim threw his head back against the lip of the bath, restlessly twisting against the cool tiles. His golden hair was, literally, just one hot mess. Eyes shining out in electric blue beneath his wet lashes, far brighter than Harvey had ever seen them, he looked on the verge of delirium or climax as he sucked in his lower lip and _whined_. 

How could something so horrible happening to his partner make the blood run into his dick?

_Jesus, he’s really losing it. Maybe we both are._

“O-okay, shush… almost made it…,” Harvey said, voice finally cracking into a whine of his own.

Jim didn’t seem aware of his surroundings when Harvey opened his belt buckle and unzipped his fly, pulling off the soaked pants with unceremonious vigor. Jim’s underwear was similarly drenched in sweat, pristine whiteness soaked to gray. He bucked at the touch of Harvey’s hands to his hip bones, a moan breaking free around the desperate panting.

_Out of control… completely gone._

Feeling delirious himself at so much raw need playing out in front of him, Harvey pulled down the last remnant of cotton, baring Jim completely. It was taking all his remaining strength not to look too closely at the perfection of that well-cropped pink flesh.

Taking a breath to steady his heart, Harvey bundled Jim’s naked body into the bath.

Jim spasmed. He gave a shriek as the water ran over his legs and back, then the shift came over him. Harvey backed up just in time as the merman tail exploded out of Jim’s body, the morph happening so quickly that Harvey hardly had time to blink.

The merman whimpered in his incredible relief, scaled hip bones lifting. Then Jim sunk down into the water with a splash, utterly spent and tongue lolling. His eyes reopened into luminous wedges that threw an eerie light over the swirling water around him. The full length of his glittering tail trailed over the end of the bath. His tail fluke flopped weakly.

He looked so feverish, so _gone_ it was somewhat frightening. High points of color burned on his cheeks and an angry-looking flush ran down his throat to his heaving, subtly muscled chest.

Very worried for him, Harvey turned on the shower head and sprayed him down. Jim mewled as water ran over his head in rivulets. He turned his head up, opening his mouth wide. His tongue looked pink and swollen as Harvey let him lap at the cascade of water flowing from the shower head, trying to quench his terrible thirst.

Jim’s orbs pulsed with such a blinding radiance that his pupils seemed to have been swallowed up completely. He looked shockingly alien, all pretense at humanity forgotten as he arched up into the cascade of water, drinking deeply.

It was about then that time stopped for Harvey. He was lost to the moment, not even really feeling it as his heart did double over-time.  

Jim coughed, turning those unfocused, radiant blue torches towards him, and he felt _skewered_ , like a fish on a merciless hook.

The merman gave a mix of a snarl and a whine, half-blindly reaching for the shower head, which Harvey passed to him. Jim clutched it. He ducked his head back under the barrage of water, desperately drinking down even more water.

Finally, Jim’s fingers loosened. He dropped the shower head into the near-overflowing bath and collapsed.

Water went absolutely everywhere.

Jim stilled, as submerged as possible, until his breathing started to slow and the flush on his skin began to recede.

Harvey watched him, breathless and miserable, perched on the side of the bath. He ignored the way his dripping clothes clung to him uncomfortably, or how much his own hands were shaking.

He had no clue how much time had passed since they had barreled into Jim’s apartment.

_Ten minutes? Half an hour? Three?_

It didn’t matter. What _mattered_ was that Jim survived this.

The merman made a confused sound, the incredible radiance of his eyes guttering.

He blinked several times and swallowed, obviously trying to focus as he looked around, pupils re-emerging in a ring of glowing cobalt. When Jim managed to retain a hazy kind of eye contact, Harvey gave him a tight smile.

“… buddy, can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

“… H-Ha …,” the merman whimpered, apparently having difficulty to speak. He gave up and whined in the back of his throat.   

Slowly, he sat up, fingers grappling to give him leverage. Jim’s hair was wildly mussed, plastered in all directions with water and sweat, and worryingly, he didn’t seem to care.  

“Are you okay?”

Jim shuffled closer. Slowly, he leaned his head against Harvey’s side. Water dripped out of his hair onto his eyelashes and down his face. Harvey held the back of his hand against Jim’s forehead. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he noticed Jim’s temperature seemed to be dropping to a normal range, if only gradually.

The merman turned his head into Harvey’s damp shirt. He snuggled against the side of Harvey’s tummy, right above his hip bone. Faintly, Harvey heard a breathy whimper.  

“Jim?” Harvey ventured again, heart in his mouth.

Wordlessly, Jim pushed his head against Harvey’s hand. Trying not to ogle at him like he’d grown a second head, Harvey gently carded Jim’s dripping hair away from his face. Jim whimpered quietly.

“You really want this?”

His friend's eyes still seemed far too bright for comfort, glowing stars under his lowered lashes. He nuzzled his nose against Harvey’s hand, expression bordering on begging when he looked up at him. There was so much emotion there, swirling in those cobalt wells. It was drawing Harvey in, drawing him down, helplessly lost.

“Okay…,”

Awkwardly at first, Harvey petted at the wet strands. They were starting to curl in Jim’s nape, those beautiful wet tassels, adding to the incredible pull he felt towards his partner.

Jim sighed softly. He pressed his head further into the touch of Harvey’s carefully probing fingers. The coils of his tail moved, slow and snake-like, finding a more comfortable position in the cramped space. Broken rainbows shimmered over the water, reflecting brilliant spots of color onto their bodies, like they were at some kind of high-end dance hall.

“Don’t worry, Jim. You’re safe now,” Harvey stuttered, suddenly wishing he could kiss this beautiful creature senseless.

Very gently, he tickled at his friend’s closed gills. Jim’s lashes lowered further.

“You’re okay, baby…,” Harvey said, blushing a bit when he realized he’d said that out loud. “Hush, I’ve got you…,”

The merman snuggled against him, eyes falling closed. A single, raspy purr left his throat, resonating within Harvey’s ribcage due to the proximity.

Maybe he hadn’t heard the endearment, or didn’t mind.

Harvey felt his forehead.

In the past few minutes, Jim’s temperature had lowered considerably. It was almost back to normal.

_Good. Thank you, god. That was a close call._

Harvey prayed Jim would be able to bounce back from this. He felt so worried about him. At least his temperature was falling. That had to be a good thing.

After a few minutes of petting, Jim suddenly gave a jerk and groaned.

He lifted his head.

“H-Harv?” he queried, sounding quite afraid as he tried to get his bearings. A hand came up, tightening in the wet fabric of Harvey’s shirt.

Harvey was so relieved to hear Jim talk, so incredibly relieved he could have sobbed.              

“I’m right here,” Harvey said. He continued the petting, trying not to alarm the barely coherent man by suddenly breaking up their strange intimacy. At least that was mostly the reason.   

He looked his partner over. “Are you okay?”

Jim blinked. His eyes still looked rather glazed, Harvey thought.

“Y-yeah…?” Jim said, not sounding very sure about it.

_Oh right._

He kept forgetting that when Jim was a merman, his core body temperature was lower than that of an average human. So even now, Jim was on the feverish side, at least by the shakily established merman standards.

“You remember what happened?”

“It hurt,” Jim said in a weak voice, leaning back against the softness of Harvey’s stomach. “Felt awful. Confused. Everything too h-hot…,”

He rubbed the back of a hand against the side of his face.  

“C- Can’t remember… did I black out?”

“No, but you were really burning up,” Harvey said.

_Also, you were the hottest thing I’ve ever seen._

“Oh…,” Jim said and frowned. “Did I… do anything weird this time?”

“You were kinda affectionate, yeah.”

His friend gave him an anxious look. Then he seemed to realize his position, jerking back suddenly as if burned.

“What did I do…?” he asked in a strained whisper, all wide blue eyes.

“I’d say the usual,” Harvey deadpanned without ease, almost enjoying the blatant look of horror Jim sent him after what he had just put both of them through. “Whimpering and nuzzling. Then the purring…still getting used to that…,”

“Oh, _god_ …!” Jim whispered. “I-I’m sorry, Harv.”

“So, Jim…,”

Hesitantly, the Boy Scout met his gaze.

“Can we agree that you can’t go without water for more than a few hours? Your body obviously needs it, whatever form you’re in!”

Jim looked downright sorrowful at his friend’s assessment. He nodded.

“Yeah…,” he said wearily. “… hoped to last a bit longer than that…,” he added, wiping at his face. Harvey wasn’t certain, but that sounded like a twisted sort of admittance to personal failure. That he was aware of what he was doing, and doing it anyway.

_Recklessly treading the path to self-destruction..._

Harvey sighed. He felt very tired. And rather cold, thanks to his drenched clothes.

“Well Jim, speaking to you as a friend, its kinda… harrowing, man, watching you run towards any discomfort you can find. Not sure I can take it. How many times do I have to bear you _half-dying_ in my arms, huh?”

“I’m s-sorry…,” Jim murmured. “Really, I am.”

Harvey sighed. “It’s hard to be angry when you look like that.”

Jim sighed as well. “Harvey, I- I’m trying. I’m sorry…,”

“So if you’re _really_ sorry Jim, can you do me one favor? Just _one_?”

Jim nodded wearily, eyes shining wetly beneath his lashes. He looked so very contrite and sad, it was making Harvey forget his anger rather quickly.

“Guess that’s fair, after you’ve probably just saved my life…,” Jim said.

“Can you please get over your damn ego and drink a little more in future? So I don’t have to go into cardiac arrest every day?!”

Jim eyes narrowed into a weirdly pained look.

“…Y-yeah,” he said in a small voice. “D-drink more… I-I’ll try.”

“…what’s wrong?” Harvey asked, sensing an explanation could be forthcoming.

“It’s nothing…,” Jim insisted, expression pleading Harvey to turn back.

_That’s a lie. That’s a lie, and a BIG one, too._

 

“ _Tell me_ ,” Harvey insisted in turn. He was onto something major here.

Jim’s gaze flickered. He moved as if to back away, but there was nowhere to go to.

“Hey, stop that.” Harvey said, leaning over and gently cupping the side of Jim’s face, making the other man stiffen. “I know what you’re doing. Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out…,” Jim protested, but there was a mournful note in his voice he couldn’t hide. He didn’t move away from the touch, or resist when Harvey tilted up his head to make him look at him.

Harvey left his hand where it was. He let a finger follow the curve of Jim’s jaw line as they locked eyes.

“You sure about that?” he probed. His finger briefly curled around a loose strand of hair, loving the tiny shiver it caused. “That you’re not keeping something from me?”

“It’s… not important…,” Jim stuttered, eyes growing panicky.

_Harvey, stop._

_God, it’s almost like I can hear Jim in my head again…_

“What’s not so important, huh? Tell me.”

Jim’s wet eyes tried to escape his stare. Electric jolts thrummed beneath glowing blue.

“Please, Jim. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Gently, Harvey stroked his finger across the side of Jim’s mouth. Jim opened his lips, a hot breath stealing out between the lobes. His eyes flickered again, tracking back to Harvey.

 “I… I was… scared,” he finally whispered, sounding horribly ashamed.

“Of drinking water?” Harvey probed. “At the precinct?”

“Yeah… n-no,” Jim said, a dangerous crack in his voice. “That’s not it…,” 

_Stop. Stop. Turn back!_

“What then, hmmm? Jeez, just spit it out!!”

“C-can we talk a-about this later?” Jim said, eyes all but begging. “I-I’m t-tired…,”

Harvey felt his anger returning.

“No, Jim! Look, I just want to know what’s going on!!” he barreled on. “Stop lying to me!”

Jim gave a tiny, heart-wrenching sniffle, making Harvey go completely still.

Almost angrily, the merman tried to wrench his face away from Harvey’s hold.

“P-please _don’t_ … I-I d-don’t wanna talk about this…,” he said, composure cracking open like a raw egg. “ _P-please, H-harv!!_ ”

“Jim…!”

“ _N-nnnooooo...._ …,” Jim begged. “N-not now… I-I c-can’t!!” 

Harvey could feel his own eyes burn at so much suffering, but he couldn’t stop now. He needed to know what was making Jim this overwhelmed.

“You know I won’t judge you...!” he urged. “You can tell me anything!”

Jim... _whined_.

CRACK.

In a split second, Harvey saw it, a terrible, lost, absolutely _tortured_ expression crossing his friend's face. It was too late.

 _“_ I _h-h-hate_ t-this!! W-w-why i-IS N-NOTHING w-WO-rk-in-g-GGG?!” Jim screamed, sounding not at all like Jim Gordon.

_Oh, god...???_

Jim’s cobalt wells spilled over, a damn breaking. A horrible wail of utter hopelessness burst out of his body.

“J-Jimbo…,” Harvey stammered, shocked at so much raw emotion. “W-what the hell is going on?!”

The merman looked at the ceiling in despair. Tears tracked down his cheeks liberally in a rising flood.

 “C-can’t wash my h-HA-ands…!” he sobbed angrily. “D-d-don’t wanna g-gO i-if I c-can’t do t-t- _thAT_ …!!! It’s so _d-dirty_ and d-d-disgusting!!!”

Jim hunched his shoulders, shaking with the severity of the sobs.

“HATE M-MYSELF…!” he said, voice nearing a wild shriek. “D _-despicable_!!!”

_Oh my GOD, Jimbo. No._

_You’re not despicable!!!_

“So you decided to _die of thirst_ because you didn’t wanna risk…?!” Harvey said, hand falling away from Jim’s face in open shock.

“Jim, that’s _torture_. You’re torturing yourself for the job, you know that?!”

Jim was howling in abject misery.  

“I-I t-tHOU-g-ght b-b-being t-t-thirsty…n-not s-s-o b-b-bAD! But it _h-h-hurts_ ….b-b-b-ad!!! W-w-WHY d-doesn’t… w-w-wORK?!”

He tucked his face against Harvey stomach and sobbed brokenly, hands blindly clutching at his shirt and _pulling_.

“I j-j-just w-w-w…!” he wailed, hardly coherent.  

_He just wants to be normal and be able to wash his hands after going to the toilet like any normal person._

_I didn’t even consider his cleanliness issues when I begged him to drink. I'm such an idiot!!_

_I’ve been pressurizing him on top of it all, thinking I had thought of everything…!!_

“I’m so-so-rRRR-yyy…f-f-f-orgive m-m-ME?!” Jim keened, hiding his face in his hands. “I-I don’t wanna b-be… a b-b-burden!!!”

He was seriously crying now, worse than Harvey had seen him cry.

“… H-HATE b-being b-b-burden!!!”

Unbelievable amounts of pent-up despair and sadness came crashing out of Jim’s body in waves.

He sounded so fucking _heartbroken_ , like a kid that had admitted to something inexcusable.

 

The hand washing issue really was _awful_ , just _true_ horror.

The proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back.

Clearly it wasn't the whole story, not by a long shot, just the final puzzle piece to a breakdown of this magnitude.

There was much more going on to make Jim cry this brokenly, with so much raw _anguish_.

Harvey felt heartbroken too, so incredibly heartbroken to see Jim in this ghastly state of mind. His absolutely worst fear was coming true.

Seriously, what kind of a childhood had this guy had, to think _so fucking poorly_ of himself???

Tears of shock and empathy dripped down the older detective’s cheeks. He felt... _sick_ to bear witness to this, just so worried sick.

Truly, it was killing him seeing the extent of Jim’s self-hatred, effectively _pulverizing_ the Boy Scout’s final barriers like a roaring tsunami hitting land.

Harvey sniffled. He didn't even know how to console the man currently shaking with grief and anguish in front of him.

“Jimbo…,”

“I-I-I t-t-try h-har-DER…!”

“N-no…fuck, you’re a-already t-trying so hard, it’s hurting you…!!!,”

“S-s-shut u-UP!! I-I’m a b-burdEN!!!” Jim choked out between wheezing deep, gut-wrenching sobs. “A-a-a-nd a m-m-monster! J-j-ust _L-loOK at me_ …!!!,”

“I _am_ l-looking a-at you…,” Harvey said. “You’re n-not a monster!”

Jim wailed wordlessly, curling in on himself and still hiding his face, an inconsolable mess.

“I-I c-c-CA-n’t e-e-eVEN do my j-job ri-ri-riGHT like t-t-this!!!” 

_He truly believes he’s a monster that doesn’t deserve any comforts._

_That he’s utterly worthless if he can’t work._

_Jim has been suffering like this, holding in his tears till he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He probably cried himself to sleep last night._

_Apart from the horrible realization he can’t wash his hands, because it would make him shift, he thinks he doesn’t even deserve the minor relief of washing his hands!_

_Because he’s despicable, and worthless, in his eyes._

_I beg him to be sensible and have a drink, when he’s trying to avoid a piss for good reason…  Oh my god._

_Oh god, this is so messed up… and maybe I have made it worse._

_He’s having a breakdown. He's really having a complete and utter breakdown...what the hell can I even do for him?!_

 

“Baby, no… d-don’t be so h-hard on yourself,”

Jim’s anguished sobbing was truly horrific to witness, and it just... wasn’t stopping.

There was so much pent-up frustration, selt-hatred and heartbreak seeping out of Jim, he suspected the man had never talked about his vulnerabilities with anyone, ever.

Harvey tried again, wishing his trembling voice could sound a bit more convincing.

He’d seen a lot of horrible, miserable things in his life. But Jim in pieces was the _worst_ thing of all.

 “Jim, you’re _NOT_ a b-burden! And you’re not a monster, you never were!” he shouted brokenly. “I’d do _anything_ for you to understand that..! I _love_ you man, and you deserve to be happy!”

“I _k-know_ w-w-what I-I am…!!! And I’ve a-acce-pted it…!” Jim choked out, probably overhearing the last statement in his deep despair.

“You’re _not_ a monster!! Please don’t s-say such awful t-things…!”

_You have no idea what you are... what you are to me!! How much I adore you, man. You don't even know it!_

“H-Harv, i-if I c-could J-just b-be n-n-OR-mal… then I t-try, and it d-d-doesn’t _w-work!_ C-can’t even wash my h-hands! C-can’t do _a-a-NY-thin-G!_ ”

“I fucked up bad, Jimbo, I should have known…!” Harvey cried. “Believe me, I didn’t even _think_ about that detail! I’m so sorry, _so freaking sorry_ I didn’t realize it before…!” Tears ran down his reddened face.

He curled his body over Jim’s frame, fiercely protective. “I just wanna keep you s-safe…!!!”

Jim surged up into his embrace, hiccupping and wheezing under the duress of such emotion.

“Why didn’t you talk to me, baby?” Harvey whined, clutching his friend tight and rocking him. “I wouldn’t have judged you! I would have tried to help you!!!”  

Jim hiccupped and let his hands sink. His sobs had slowed, but he was still crying pretty hard.

The merman was an utter mess, high color in his cheeks, hair on end and eyes almost blood-shot around blue centers.  

“B-b-but I don’t know w-w-what you could have d-d-done? A-and I don’t d-“

“ _I swear_ , Jim, if you say “you don’t deserve something” _one more time_ , I’ll go ballistic!!!” Harvey growled out, gathering him into a hug and almost toppling into the bath with him. “You’re not despicable, not _at all_ , nor worthless!!!”

Jim hiccupped again, trying to catch his breath.

“You _deserve_ to be happy, and you deserve to stop torturing yourself about things that aren’t your freaking _fault_!”

The man didn’t say anything, but he clung to Harvey like a leech, so tight it hurt.

“You deserve to ask for help, anyone does!!! And I _understand_ why you couldn’t, why it’s too embarrassing. But that’s wrong, okay? God…, knowing you can’t do the simplest hygienic things on your own… I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it like that!”

Jim nodded slowly, a quiet sob bubbling out again.

“I w-was thirsty… b-b-but…. couldn’t face it. T-t-thought I w-w-was be-being sen-si-ble…so s-sorr-y...,”

“Jim, I get it now, okay? _Stupid, stupid misunderstanding!!_ You weren’t reckless. I know you were trying to make it work, _trying so very hard_. But you should have talked to me, shared the load!”

Jim snuffled, fingers curling into his soaked clothes.

“But this is the last time you’re keeping something this major from me. Alright, Stud?” Harvey whispered, instinctively starting the petting again.

Gosh, but Harvey really couldn’t stop the endearments spilling out of him, not anymore, with Jim so heartbroken and receptive to loving comfort.

Jim nodded minutely, oozing into his touch.

_I’m gonna show you. I swear it, I'm gonna make this right._

_By god, but you’re anything BUT a monster. Or maybe we_ all _are, Jimbo, and you’re the best of us… I don’t even know…!!!_

“…m’sorry…,” the merman sniffled and hiccupped. “P-please d-don’t l-leave me…,”

“I’m _not_ leaving you,” Harvey cooed. “I’m _here_. I’m right here.”

Jim rubbed at his eyes, almost childlike in his grief.

“R-really? B-but everyone l-l-leaves m-me…,” he whimpered. “As t-they s-should…,”

_But everyone leaves me. As they should..._

_Oh Jimbo, baby, no. Don't make me cry all over again..._

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you. I’m staying, okay?”

Jim gave him the most heartbreakingly hesitant glance.

"....you m-mean...?" he whispered.

"Yeah. Staying. Right _here_ , if you'll have me."

Harvey was so past caring what Jim thought about him, or that statement. He had meant every damn word. Of course he was staying.

“…’kay…,” Jim sniffled, seemingly satisfied with what he’d seen. He settled back into Harvey’s side.

_Thank god it’s Friday. He’s in no state to go back to work tomorrow._

_Or if… like… ever?_

“Baby, don’t worry. On Monday, I’m gonna speak with Lucius. That smart-ass probably has several ideas how to clean your hands without using water,” Harvey proclaimed, trying to sound certain.   

Jim gazed up into his face, eyes still red after that intense crying, and bit his lip cutely.

“B-but…,”

“I won’t mention you, or why I need that intel at all. I’ll make something up,” Harvey said, stroking Jim’s tousled hair back and slicking it down.

Jim nodded and snuggled against Harvey’s soft tummy.

“O-okay…,” he mumbled, sounding quite relieved. “T-thank y-you.”

“Putz….,” Harvey said, petting his friend. “You can’t always try and deal with this stuff on your own. And guess what, you don’t have to. You’ve got little old me, remember? Hmm? When you’re like this…before it gets this bad again… can you _please_ let me step in?”

Jim curled in on himself, sniffling.

“… that be alright, Jim?” Harvey stammered, stroking through the silky strands. “Really, I never want to see you this distressed again. I never want you to be this distressed _ever_ again, ‘kay? It’s breaking my heart.”

The merman gave a hesitant, broken whimper.

“Jim, _please_. Just a bit of caretaking? To keep you away from harm?”

“…a-alright…,” Jim said after the longest pause in history, in the quietest whisper ever. “J-just a little…c-caretaking… w-when I’m getting like t-this,”

_He said it. He actually said yes._

Softly, Harvey’s hands came down to cradle Jim’s face, gently stroking his angular jaw.

“I promise to take good care of you. I’m never gonna leave you. Not in a thousand years.”

_God, I love you._

Jim's beautiful blue orbs were wide open and unbearably vulnerable as he met Harvey’s eyes.

He nodded, lower lip trembling.

“I t-trust you, Harv…,” Jim said, gazing at him.

_I trust you, Harv._

“About time, too,” Harvey praised, feeling like his broken heart was going to burst all over again when his friend managed a small, frail smile.

“Is there anything you need right now?”

“C-could you…,” Jim sniffled, anxious.

“Could I what, baby?” Harvey urged gently, letting a calloused thumb entwine around another wet strand of hair. 

“ _Please_ … _uh_ …,” Jim’s eyelashes lowered gorgeously. “… could you c-carry me…? I’m s-so tired…,”

Harvey blew out a breath and smiled. He felt so ridiculously proud the man had actually managed to voice his needs for once.

“You don’t need to ask me for those kinds of things. I’ll gladly carry you anywhere you want, okay? Just tell me where _to_ ,” he said, grinning when Jim tried to hide a blush against his stomach.

“… to my b-bed?” he whispered. “Wanna sleep in my b-bed… _t-tired_ … of t-the bath…,”

“…Sure thing,” Harvey said in a breathless voice. “I’ll carry you to bed.”

Had he actually just _said_ that to Jim Gordon? He felt so lightheaded.

But then he’d also come dangerously close to a love confession, so compared to that chestnut…!

In this dark day and age, after decades of bull, that he’d fall so _utterly_ for someone... for someone as jarringly complicated as the man in front of him.

_I love you, Jim. God help me, but I do._

“… H-Harvey…?” Jim whispered, nuzzling at his hand.  

“Yeah, buddy?” Harvey said.

“H-hate being a-alone,” Jim murmured. 

“Sure, no biggie,” Harvey said, expecting Jim meant the couch. “I said I’ll stay.”

“Bed is b-big enough… for b-both of us…,” Jim clarified, looking at him from under his lashes. His eyes had the power to suck the oxygen from the room. “…stay?”

“Right,” Harvey said weakly, moisture gone from his mouth. “Whatever you want.”

He was about to share a bed with the man he’d been... quietly fantasizing about... for years, when he was at his most vulnerable, and not use that against him.

 _Jesus Christ_.

“A-and…,”

“…y-yeah?” Harvey said, not convinced his thudding heart could take any more of this excitement.

“The… massage…it was s-so n-nice,” Jim whispered. “… but if it’s asking too m-much…?”

_Of course it's not asking too much, you poor mistreated thing._

“It’s not. It’s totally fine,” Harvey reassured very gently, stomach doing weird little somersaults. “Do you wanna stick with the tail tonight, then? Till you feel a bit better, hmm?”

Jim nodded timidly. His eyes were huge, wet and blue under his long lashes, so pleading it _hurt_.

“F-feels too early to shift b-back, a-after…,” Jim tried to explain with a sniffle. “N-not ready for more p-pain…,”

“Jim, it's fine. I’ll make a plan,” Harvey soothed. “You shouldn’t worry yourself. Let me take care of it.”

_Let me take care of everything, baby. Please._

“…mmmhhh,” Jim snuggling up against him. “A-alright. I’m so t-tired…,”

“Yeah, I bet…,” Harvey whispered, petting him lovingly. “I think that was a close one, Jim.”

Jim gave a shaky sigh. “T-t-think y-you’re right.” He let out a puff of breath and yawned. "Mmmmh...,"

The merman looked up, his eyes shining pools, insanely deep.

“R-really glad you’re here, Harv.”

Good god. The _expression on Jim’s face_ lingered on the borders of adoration. It was frighteningly close to _worshipful_.

He looked beautiful like that...

“Me too, Jimbo,” Harvey said, leaning down and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Jim dipped his head, coloring cutely. A purr left his throat.

“Come on then…,”

 

The merman’s eyelashes quivered, but he didn’t open his eyes or resist when Harvey gathered him into his tired arms and heaved him into his lap. He leaned heavily against his shoulder, fingers tangling in his shirt. His tail hung down, automatically wrapping around one of Harvey’s drenched pant legs.

“Wanna s-sleep…,” Jim whined into his shoulder.

“What about something to eat?”

Jim shrugged a little against him. “Tired…,” is all he said, as if that explained enough.

“Just a few bites, Jim? You haven’t had anything since breakfast…,”

Jim opened his eyes into glowing slits and peered up at him.

“… too weak to eat…,” he whined. “ _Tired_.”

“I can feed you…,” Harvey suggested, maybe too willingly, noticing a faint spark of panic in Jim’s eyes at that strange offer.

Jim squirmed and whined in his arms, finally nodding wordlessly.

Had he just given Harvey permission to feed him by hand?

 _Mother Mary_.

 

Feeding Jim was a mixture of cringe-worthy awkwardness and unbearable cuteness. In hindsight, Harvey didn’t know how he made it out of that alive. But he did.

The merman didn’t resist when Harvey gently prised his parched lips open. He was curled in his lap as they sat down on couch.

Obediently, Jim let his friend feed him some sardines from the tin, half-suckling the slick oil from Harvey’s gentle fingers.

It was so unbelievably, jarringly, _killingly_ hot and yet also not, that pliancy in his body, the way he took Harvey’s oily fingers, in his every movement against his partner. The amount of trust shimmering through Jim’s expression was almost too much to handle. His eyes were low and soft under heavy lashes. The only sounds in the room were their mingled breathing.

Totally drained as he was after the shocking physical and emotional upheaval, Jim actually needed help in swallowing the food down, the reflex only working when Harvey gently stroked against his clean-shaven throat.

Harvey had imagined that beautiful submissiveness, seen it in short bursts.

Sometimes in the past days, he’d secretly longed for it, _longed_ with all his being to lay a gentle leash around his partner’s neck.

To protect him, _spoil him rotten_. 

To _save_ him, if that was possible. 

But _this_. This was a whole _new scale_ of submissiveness.

It was... strange... and really more than heart-breaking to see his friend so… _reduced_.

He hadn’t pictured a submissive Jim quite like this… so _extremely_ frail, unable to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure how much Gordon was currently left inside the husk.

There was an air of brokenness to the beautiful creature licking the oil off his fingers, and Harvey couldn’t look away.

He felt worried for Jim, terribly so, even as his throat closed with unbearable affection.

Suddenly, Harvey wanted to turn back time. Not force Jim to answer the question and rip up the last of his inner defenses in the process, when the Boy Scout was already leaning over the edge, a heartbeat away from self-destruction.

Jim had somewhat mysteriously tried to warn him, but Harvey had pushed past the resistance, when his friend was already at the very end of his tether. But… he’d been so sure he’d gotten it right! However, nobody was right about anything anymore. Nobody was _at fault_ , either… although Harvey felt a twinge of unreasonable guilt, nevertheless.

They were both stubborn as hell, and maybe needed to work on their communication skills.

_Definitely they needed to work on that…_

_… he’s a train wreck._

The twisted carcass of that major train wreck still glowed hotly on the upended rails, staring him in the face out of those trusting, savagely beautiful eyes.

Harvey finished the feeding, watching the merman sleepily lick at his fingers until they completely clean. He sighed as he was repositioned to lie down on the couch. Harvey stood, leaning down to stroke through sticky, disheveled hair.

“I won’t be gone long. Just gonna make up the bed…,”

Jim was barely recognizable, just jagged shards of personality held together by the frailest cobwebs. The man started to lick at his own hands as if it was a form of comfort, lashes low over his cheeks. 

Harvey sighed. All he could do now was Damage Control, first, and as much comforting as Jim would allow, second. 

Maybe a truckload of sugar would help Jim Gordon come back to himself. He certainly hoped it was possible for his friend, the bravest man he knew, to bounce back from this.

Harvey left Jim on the couch to prepare the bed, spreading all the sheets and towels he could find over one half of the bed, half to save the mattress from the worst of the water, half to give him the comfortable nest he knew the merman secretly longed for.

Shivering, Harvey allowed himself to strip out of his clothes at last, just leaving his boxers on and slipping into the largest T-shirt of Jim’s he could find in his wardrobe. Luckily, Jim’s bathrobe was huge – it must almost dwarf the man – and fit him surprisingly well.

Next, he searched the house, settling on empty spritzer bottle Lee must have once used on plants that had withered and died long ago.

He filled it up with the coldest water the tap would provide and set it on the dresser next to the bed.

_Keep him cool. He’s just come down from a fever. And the worst mental breakdown in history._

Jim leaned into him, barely conscious, as Harvey carried the exhausted merman to bed. He laid him down on top of the pile of towels.

“There we go, shush…,” Harvey soothed. “Just relax, Jim.”

He watched Jim roll on to his right side, facing the middle of the bed. His fingers dug into the towels, curling inwards as if he needed something solid to hold on to.  

The merman sighed when the fine drops of the spritzer bottle wet his gleaming scales. Harvey bundled himself into the other side of the bed and piled the blankets over his own tired body. Jim heaved himself a bit closer. His heavy head came to rest on Harvey’s chest, parched lips silently nuzzling against the blanket. There was no further sign of consciousness.

A massage could wait, Harvey guessed. Jim was falling asleep fine without it.

“Sleep well, Putz…,” Harvey whispered, nosing at damp golden hair, giving in to some self-indulgence.

Jim’s wet tail fluke flopped over Harvey’s bent knees.

 

They fell asleep like that, loosely embraced.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er... did you make it out of that alive? Well, uh. Really glad you did...!!! 
> 
> Yeah. I know. RIGHT IN THE FEELS. *Clutches bleeding heart* So freaking sorry. 
> 
> Please read this AFTER the chapter, if at all, okay?
> 
> Useless ramblings of a writer at wit's end. I feel I have to explain myself and beg for forgiveness. 
> 
> So. Analysis. Obviously, there was a major misunderstanding happening here between them, and some of that started in the background in chapter 9 and 10. I hope the misunderstanding was believable. Neither of them did a very good job in communicating what they needed from the other, or what was actually making them so angry. It was incredibly hard to write them arguing, and trying to lampshade what was really going on. I feel I may have failed there. I tried. Also, equally obviously, Jim has ALWAYS had major self-esteem issues. Between seasons 1-3, he's already lost SO MUCH, and that's still simmering. Now, his self-hatred (and self-pity) has radically worsened (Chapter 4 etc.), ever since being forced into this situation of a wrong body, and the subsequent endangerment of having a normal human life, most especially the complications of trying to uphold the only thing left to him to uphold his emotional stability: Continuing his job. I really think this is very close to canon Jim Gordon, at least in my mind, even thought DC didn't go as far in showing it as they could have. It MAJORLY fucks Jim over that he's losing control over absolutely EVERYTHING in his life, he HATES to lose that last shard of self-suffiency, it breaks him. And he breaks messily. 
> 
> Harvey, the natural caregiver who is literally dying to give in to that caregiving instinct, has become used to his life being a shit show in canon. Yet, the wonderful guy shoulders on, wanting to be at Jim's side no matter what that means. He's starting to crack under the strain of trying to help someone who needs to break before accepting that help. It's not unrealistic for Harvey to assume that Jim is being reckless and not thinking straight, as he is constantly, ALWAYS reckless. It's fair to say that even here, Jim IS being reckless, in a twisted way, refusing to drink is PRETTY STUPID. Although in his mind, it's too humiliating to drink and then not be able to wash his hands after going to the toilet, and with the water from the showers etc., too dangerous to enter the men's room / locker room at all. Jim is trying to think of the consequences of drinking water and being angsty about not being able to deal with those consequnces (alone), whereas Harvey is stuck on the fact that Jim simply needs to drink water, being a merman and everything, no matter what, and hoping Jim would still have the self-preservation to say something if he's starting to endanger his life. But Jim has already decided his life is worthless. So no biggie to him to endanger it, or to say it differently, he doesn't think about what he's doing to others being so self-centred. 
> 
> Jim being the worst when it comes to talking feelings and needs, poor Harv misinterpreted something, and it's really not his fault he did so, it's just a shitty communication between both them, which, together with the extreme mental pressure Jim has (stubbornly) been trying to deal with alone, leads to the Boy Scout's (anyway unavoidable) breakdown. I'm really sorry Harvey is putting some of the guilt upon himself, because really, he shouldn't. They both focused on different points of the problem, for equally understandable reasons. That was a mistake they both made here.
> 
> This whole fic has been gearing towards this major train wreck. 
> 
> It's so, so heartbreaking, but we all know the Boy Scout had this coming for a while, and we all know that it happening is also Harvey's worst nightmare. 
> 
> Those poor, POOR babies. But... THERE WILL BE LIGHT!!!!! 
> 
> I'm so sorry guys. Can understand if you want to abandon this fic... hope not, though... sigh. 
> 
> I really apologize for being so crazily invested in them, maybe it's a little shocking. Please don't hate me for this chapter. 
> 
> Next chapter... truckload of sugar, for both of them. Let's be honest, they've earned a bit of a break. And damn if I don't wanna spoil them completly rotten after this. I want them to whine in contentment... seriously. Who even says that kind of thing?
> 
> Gordlock is for life, man. For life.


	12. Just don't let go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Thank you all for sticking around! Truly thrilled to get those comments and kudos, thank you SO MUCH for this, so grateful <3\. Really nice to know when people care, you give me life <3\. 
> 
> Last chapter did drain me for a while, but the main reason for the delay was JIB X (A Con in Rome), which threw off my writing routine for days. And the running chapter is becoming such a monster yet again... so I decided to split off part of it and post it right now so that you don't have to wait even longer ;). As a result, chapter 12 is more like an interlude I guess? No warnings. Promise the next chapter will be the usual abhorrent length, ha ha ;).

Harvey didn’t know why he woke up in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the low-key discomfort of a scratchy throat or the feeling he was being watched.

The only illumination in the room was cast by Jim’s blue moons, anxious and exhausted under thick lashes.

It wasn’t a hard guess that Jim may have had a nightmare, but had been unwilling to disturb him when he had jerked awake. His friend lay on his side, facing him, bare torso folded inwards in the futile attempt to keep his uneven breathing to himself.

Jim’s tail had found its way between Harvey’s bent knees, the supple muscle loosely winding around his lower leg, taking the blanket with it. His tail fluke covered Harvey’s socked feet like a damp heavy curtain. The rest of their bodies weren’t touching any longer, but mirrored each other in posture on the expanse of the bed, drenched in pale lowlight.  

Everything about the moment seemed strangely dream-like. Time stretched like honey as they gazed at each other, the City raging outside Harvey’s shuttered windows, unable to enter their bubble of silence. The atmosphere was too fractured to bear a single spoken word.

Harvey wanted to reach out and draw Jim into a comforting hug, but sensed instinctively it would be too much. It could shatter more than heal. Jim had to feel he had choices, had to be reassured he wasn’t being forced into being helpless, into staying broken, even now.

He laid his hand on to the space of blanket between their bodies, fingers outstretched towards his partner, an open invitation to close the distance.

_Take my hand._

Jim gazed back through tousled strands. His eyes swam, but he didn’t move an inch.

_Come on, baby._

Jim sighed, almost too soft for the human ear.

_I’m right here. Please take my hand._

Slowly Jim reached out towards him. Two of his fingers wrapped around Harvey’s forefinger, a tightening vise, desperate for an anchor. His lips pressed together painfully.

_Feel so… weak._

Harvey smiled at him, feeling his heart squeeze.

_Don’t worry. You’re doing great. It’s gonna be fine._

Jim didn’t return the smile, but the tenseness in his shoulder blades and expression lessened. The Boy Scout looked drawn, struggling to regain control.

Harvey let his thumb draw circles over the cool meat of Jim’s hand, watched by the merman. Jim’s heavy eyelashes dipped almost gratefully, loosening a tear that tracked down his cheek. Something about the way his mouth worked seemed similar to the self-deprecating man Harvey knew, yet it wasn’t quite the same. Jim’s haggard appearance spoke so clearly through the silence that Harvey didn’t need to hear the words.

_Please… don’t leave._

Harvey kept his breathing and gaze steady, reliable. He didn’t want to frighten or concern the broken thing trying to mend itself into some kind of recognizable shape.  

_I’m staying. Promise, Jim. I’m here for you._

Remembering it had been soothing to Jim once before, he started humming a tune under his breath, thumb still keeping up the circling over cool flesh.

Jim stiffened at the sudden sound in the room, all startled animal for a worrying second, before relaxing again with a shaky sigh. More tears slipped free and disloyally dripped down his cheeks. He brought up his other hand, trying to hide his face as a sniffle escaped him.

_I… I’m so… can’t… hate myself…_

Harvey faltered in the humming, afraid he’s misjudged the still-present severity of the merman’s mental state, but the press of Jim’s fingers urged him to continue.

_No, don’t stop… it helps._

The press of Jim’s cool fingers was quite a relief. Harvey hoped it meant that Jim was self-aware enough to even think of reassuring him in this state, that his friend wasn’t broken beyond repair. Jim could still be in there somewhere, even if he felt lost and small right now, evident by the shamefaced sniffling.

_Please don’t go. I’m sorry…_

Harvey hummed consolingly, heart aching at so much quiet despair.

_Hush. Gonna take good care of you, remember? Not leaving. It’s gonna be fine._

Jim peeked at him over the top of his hand covering part of his face.

_You must think I’m a burden… n-not good enough…for anything. Not good enough…_

Maybe Jim was working some weird kind of merman telepathy on him, because it really seemed like he knew exactly what the man was saying in the quiet… or maybe he just had good intuition what was running through the kid’s muddled head right now…

_Putz, what I care about is YOU, any and all of you. Of course you aren’t a burden. And it’s not important how good you are! You don’t need to prove yourself to me, Jim. Please rest … you need to rest…_

Jim sighed, eyelashes lowering obediently.

_… don’t understand… but… thank you. For staying… not leaving me…_

Harvey smiled again, feeling choked up inside. At least he was succeeding in calming the creature that still had shreds of his partner shining through, and that was all that mattered. He continued to hum in the most soothing way he could still pull off with his sore throat. A lilting Irish tune his grandmother had taught him drifted through the room, loving, slow and gentle.

_Of course, baby. Now please sleep… please try and sleep… I’m right here._

_I’ll be here forever, if you want me to be._

Jim let his hand fall away from his face and looked at him. The sheen of fresh tear tracks reflected the glow.

_Really? You won’t leave me… when I’m l-like this?_

Harvey pulled Jim’s other hand towards him.

_No, Jim. Course not._

He prised his friend’s stiff cold fingers apart with his warm ones, until he’d weaved them together into a gentle hold. Jim looked down at their linked hands on the bedsheet, gaze growing hazy and incredibly vulnerable.

_B-but… I’m so… useless._

Harvey’s grip tightened on his hand.

_Not useless, baby. Overwhelmed, definitely, and very, very tired. In need of spoiling. Let me take care of you, make it better._

Jim sighed into the pillow. The room gradually darkened, falling back into dreamland as the wedges of light thinned.

_…’kay…. tired… really t-tired… sorry._

_Don’t be sorry. Just try and sleep._

Jim closed his eyes.  

Total blackness covered them as the last glow of his eyes was extinguished, but Harvey felt Jim’s cold fingers pressing faintly into their linked hands, and somehow that was more intimate than even the softest gaze of the Boy Scout.

_Thank you… Harv… need you…_

_Sleep, Jim. It will get better. I promise…_

Jim’s breathing deepened eventually, grip faltering.

Harvey needed longer to fall back asleep. He felt uncomfortable, and a faint pounding was starting up in his head.

 

_He will get better…_

_… I’m staying, in any case._

Their hands stayed linked all through the dark of another Gotham night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know this was very brief chapter, sorry about that. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.  
> Look forward to the next chapter guys, it will contain endless fluff and some interesting role reversals, aka, may I happily announce some AwkwardCaregiver!Jim and possibly mutual Hair Kink! ;).  
> Have I mentioned I love them? God help me *__*.
> 
> P.S. Today is Camren's birthday!!! (Congrats to the best Selina Kyle ever!).  
> P.P.S This darn computer hates my guts, the keyboard is locked in a civil war with me. Not boding well for writing. Screw it, I'll find a way to make this work! ;)  
> P.P.S. Sleep? Never heard of it. Hope it hasn't lost my number (Sorry, this wasn't even funny). 
> 
> Hope you are all doing well and again thank you so much for reading! Have a great week!


	13. Hazards of Caretaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbelievable, but I'm back! Terribly sorry for the longer wait! Let's launch into the delightfuly fluffy and angsty waters of Harvey hoping to take care of Jim, and the tides turning against him. Time for some shockingly odd Caregiver!Jim and the *beginnings* of some seriously overdue Harvey!Indulgement <3\. Also, after the events in chapters 11 and 12, expect Harvey's thoughts on issues of consent and love, and a lot of this AU-typical weirdness you already know about. No warnings, except for positively absurd levels of pining and UST. Hope you enjoy. I tried <3.

The next time Harvey returned to consciousness, it was with a throat that felt like on fire and a head full of densely pounding drums.

He tried to muffle the cough that burst out of him into the pillow, but evidently wasn’t successful, as the confused mewl close to him confirmed.

Clearing his throat, he turned his head to see Jim blinking at him from a mere foot away. Harvey’s protective instincts kicked in at the sight that met him: The Boy Scout laying there, curled up in his nest of towels and wearing maybe the droopiest look he’d ever seen on him.

"Harv…,” Jim greeted. He pushed mussed strands out of his eyes with a slow hand. The morning light filtering through the shutters behind him lit up the back of his head, tinging it almost white.

When Harvey opened his mouth to speak, he couldn’t stifle another cough breaking through, heavy with congestion. “Hey…,” he scrambled to greet back, seeing Jim frown at him sleepily.

God, he sounded wretched and his eyes stung looking into the light… what was going on?

“Did you s-sleep a bit?” he nevertheless probed, because priorities. After all, he wasn’t the one who’d had a major meltdown.

Harvey watched his friend’s eyes gather focus. Jim gave a nod and shifted closer on the bed. Hesitantly, Jim brought up a hand as if to feel Harvey’s forehead, but seemed to not quite trust himself to touch, letting it hang awkwardly in the air. He let his hand drop to the blanket between their bodies, eyes pinching.

“…look awful. Are you sick?” he asked quietly, with an expression that Harvey could only describe as _concern_. It was an odd look on Jim’s face, and not one Harvey had seen directed at anyone that often.

“Nonsense, I’m great,” Harvey replied, frustrated he didn’t sound remotely believable. Even swallowing felt like drinking glass shards. “More importantly, how are _you_ feeling?”

The merman studied him before answering, a micro expression playing around his lips.

“… drained,” he admitted, fingers tightening in Harvey’s blanket. “But… okay. Better. I’m better, Harv.”

“Really?” Harvey probed.

_That the truth, baby?_

Jim nodded, stifling a yawn.

“Sleeping helped.”

Gently, almost guiding, Harvey threaded his fingers through Jim’s and gave them a squeeze. The man stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull his hand away, either.

“…alright. I’m real glad to hear it,” Harvey said.

Jim glanced at him.

“Uh… about yesterday…, he said. “Don’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“No… it isn’t. I shouldn’t have put you through that,” Jim mumbled and looked away with a sad tug of the mouth.

“Jimbo… listen man, this level of crazy would mess with anyone, okay? _Anyone_. You’ve been holding it together pretty well. If you need to let go sometimes, get it out of your system, I’m all for that! Better talk about what you’re going through then keep it all inside your muddled head, don’t you think?”

Jim shrugged. Harvey squeezed his hand reassuringly, pushing back the sudden urge to reach over and pet his friend who was glancing at him like some touch-starved tom cat.

“You’re going to be able to deal with this, I still believe that. Just need some time to decompress now and then, and maybe accept help, alright? Stop pushing yourself quite so hard.”

Jim lifted his eyes then, and Harvey could have sworn time stopped, the whole world trapped in a gaze of strange intensity.

“Remember, hmm, what we talked about?” Harvey said. “A bit of caretaking when you needed it?”

_I mean, we may as well make it official, Jimbo. You need some Caretaking and … I’d love to take care of you._

The merman’s eyes had gone quite wide. He gave a barely visible nod, staring him down with something soft and serious swirling in his cobalt depths.

“I remember,” he whispered, lips hardly moving.

“Good,” Harvey praised. “Was worried you’d forgotten for a sec.”

Jim swallowed and shook his head, sending him a small smile. “Harv…,” he began.

“Hmm?” Harvey said, thumb stroking over his partner’s cool fingers as he willed himself to keep his game face on. This man was _killing_ him in the best and worst ways.

“Thank you. For being here for me,” the Boy Scout said, gravelly voice saturated with such gratitude it almost stole Harvey’s breath. Jim’s fingers squeezed against his weakly. “… maybe I can’t thank you enough.”

Giving in to the least dangerous of his urges after all, Harvey reached out with his other hand. Trying for casual, he briefly ruffled through Jim’s golden-brown waves, almost grinning at the annoyed hiss of protest.

“Anytime, Putz,” Harvey said generously, proud that his voice didn’t crack under the weight of his squeezing heart.

His stomach felt odd as he watched Jim unconsciously nibble at his lower lip, eyes resting on their linked hands like frail blue butterflies beneath a Gordon-ish frown, a strange conundrum of old and new.

Idly, weirdly _lulled_ by the fragility of the moment as he stroked Jim’s hand, Harvey wondered if he had dreamt their last interaction, or if it had been reality, there in the small hours of the night. It was impossible to tell, and Jim sure wasn’t telling. He probably never would, annoyingly.  

Of course, it was then that Harvey’s sore throat just had to make him give a string of coughs and break the moment. Jim frowned at him, the fragile side winking out in a second.

“Harv…,” he prompted, more forcefully this time. “Really don’t look so good… if you’re sick…?”

“It’s nothing…,” Harvey reassured hastily.

The Boy Scout lifted a sardonic eyebrow, lips quirking.  

_Are you telling the truth?_

Harvey cleared his throat.

“I-I’m _fine_ , Jim. It’s just a cold, ‘kay?”

Jim’s eyes dropped, taking in his tail fin that was heavily laying across his friend’s socked feet. A few beads of moisture still glistened on the dark webbing. His eyes wandered up their bodies, narrowing and growing critical as he stared at the damp blanket twisted around Harvey’s legs, and the piles of wet towels between them.

Wordlessly, the merman sat up, letting go of Harvey’s hand and dragging the tail away from his feet. The look of loathing Jim sent his lower half was a given by now, but still definitely worrying to witness.

“This is my fault,” Jim spat suddenly, voice hard and flat. “I – I’m sorry.”

“ _Wh-?_ Come on, don’t be stupid…,” Harvey said, incredulous that Jim could even _think_ that way. “Course this isn’t your fault!”

Jim’s eyes were icing over even as he tried to reassure him.

“Made you cold and wet all night. The tail… made you sick.” Jim sighed tersely. “This is all me, _again_.”

“Excuse me, mister, but it was my decision to do this, ‘kay? Want to be right _here_. You can’t shoulder the responsibility of making me sick! That’s ridiculous.”

It was hard not to shout, but Harvey managed. Barely.

The icy flatness of Jim’s eyes was the loudest door slam he could give, and Harvey _hated_ that look already. He couldn’t say if he should be relieved or desperate that this slice of Gordon had to rear its head right now - and over literally god-damn _nothing_.

“If I hadn’t-”

“Oh, stop it! Please _stop_ ,” Harvey interrupted, grabbing at Jim’s hand to get him to listen. “Look, this is _nonsense_. I know what you’re doing. I’m not leaving you, _or_ blaming you, not for anything. It’s _fine_. It’s just a cold!”

Jim studied him intently, all but radiating guilt.

_This is my fault, Harv. You don’t have to pretend it isn’t so._

It was like Jim had spoken those words aloud, or broadcasted them directly into his head… but maybe Harvey’s intuition was starting to play magic tricks on him.

What Jim actually said, gruffly, was: “ _Fine_. Let me do something for you, at least.”

_Please, Harv._

“Putz, that’s – not necessary. Can take care of myself perfectly well…,” he tried to protest, not liking Jim’s critical eye trained on him.

“Yeah?” Jim said. “Well, I think you look awful. Let me-” – his voice wavered, turning slightly begging – “- let me do something _right_ , for once…,” 

Harvey hesitated at that. He needed to think fast – which was albeit quite hard, the way his head was throbbing.

_Wait a sec. This could be a good thing. He needs this, right? Some control, some reassurance? And I do feel terrible…_

Instead, what his stupid mouth blurted was: “You don’t have to do anything for me, Jimbo. Don’t want you beating yourself up over stuff you have no control over! Not _everything_ is your responsibility, how could it be?”

That was most definitely the wrong thing to say to his partner in his state of mind.

Jim’s expression fell into something downcast, before easing out into a disturbingly dull mask.

“… just wanted to help,” he rasped, not meeting his eyes.  

_Not good enough to take care of him. Not good enough…_

_Don’t deserve to help… can’t do anything right…_

Instantly, intuition or no, Harvey saw his mistake, but the possible implications were giving him whiplash. He’d barely woken up, dammit. It wasn’t like his brain was fully awake yet, and already Jim was forcing him into these emotional hairpin turns.

Did Jim truly _want_ to take care of him here?  Or… was it just his guilty conscience driving him, and he felt _obliged_ to do something? Was it both?

If he had to guess, he would say this had to be Jim’s reaction to what he assumed was normal for being Bros with Harvey under unnatural circumstances. Unnatural circumstances like growing a tail and changing your species. Maybe Jim thought he’d figured out _Harvey’s_ _standard_ for being Best Bros at last. Very likely he was feeling guilty about falling short as his Bro in some aspect and now guilty about the dampness of the tail, and these things were driving him to this oddly caring behavior. The Boy Scout _wanting_ to nursemaid him wasn’t something Harvey would have expected… would have hoped for. He hadn’t ever bothered to think how flustered it would make him feel, truth be told. Maybe also thrilled, uncomfortably however, because there was no way they were on the same page with their feelings here, and that meant Harvey could not relax.

But damn if he didn’t want to see where this was going...

 _Did it even really matter why Jim was suggesting this?_  

That was the hungry side speaking, of course. The side asking why he shouldn’t just enjoy the bone Jim was throwing him, take any of the willingly bestowed affections he could get, now, finally, after all this time? He _should_ , oh man, he _wanted_ to… so damn much. But.

No. He needed to think about Jim now, what his friend needed from him, and what he didn’t. His friend had survived a dangerous fever and a severe emotional meltdown. There was Jim’s emotional state to consider. Harvey didn’t know if now was a good time for any experiments, of any kind, even by Jim’s own implication. Surely, the Boy Scout _playing_ _nurse_ had to be considered a potentially dangerous experiment? He doubted the man had much experience with caretaking. It wasn’t really his nature. Angry protecting, maybe, but… _caretaking_? And then the timing of that caretaking, wasn’t that… _off_?

He knew he was thinking _way_ too much about this. Jim was watching at him with that piercing blue stare again, lips pressed together painfully, waiting for an answer.           

“Just mean you don’t need to feel obliged. You’ve been through a lot, Jim, and really, I get it. But… yeah. My throat does kinda hurt, to be honest…,” Harvey said, wording it very carefully.

His throat wheedled another cough out of him. Harvey hoped he’d made the right decision, admitting that he didn’t feel so great and letting Jim make the choice without feeling too obliged. Harvey had been all up for _doing_ the caretaking, not the other way around. He didn’t know how the tables could have turned so quickly.

Jim perked up and looked contrite. His extreme _willingness_ shone out like a beam of light, making the man seem a lot more innocent than when he wore his usually grim facade.

“Alright, so… uh, would you like a hot drink?” Jim mumbled hopefully. He was fumbling in his attempt to go about his new mission - but of course, nevertheless desperately determined to make it work – the adorable combination was making it hard for Harvey not to smile like an idiot.

“Or… some… soup? Have some meds in the bathroom too, if you need…?” Jim followed up.

His eyes roamed Harvey’s face, markedly more focused and alive, if still a little iced for the older man to feel completely at ease with this strange conundrum.

_Oh god, why do I even find this so adorable? What’s wrong with me?_

Harvey decided to waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

_Be the one with the reliable reactions. Play it safe._

“ _You_ have meds? For colds? _Seriously_?” Harvey heard himself say, teasing. _Good_.

“How… prepared. Guess you’re really a Boy Scout.”

Jim’s face relaxed some more and he rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Yeah… still have a few things… from when Lee …,” the merman stopped talking, looking wistful for a second as he stared towards the door and swallowed. “Anyway. Should have something handy.”

“… like what?” Harvey said, smiling in encouragement while trying his best to ignore the image of poor Lee trying to take care of a stubborn Jim, complete with a reddened nose and the sniffles. _That_ image caused too many mixed emotions, including, if he was being honest, a bit of green-eyed envy that Lee may have seen this side of Jim long before the tail even happened, had been _allowed_ to take care of the Boy Scout a bit. He shouldn’t think about Jim’s Ex that way, it was _wrong_ … and yet. _And_ _yet_.

_Tell me. How Lee took care of you, what she did._

_Bless her, but she wasn’t right. Not for you._

Jim snapped his head back to look at him.

“Huh?”

“I said, what things come in handy for a cold, in the Gordon household?” Harvey clarified. He spoiled the tone by sneezing, but at least he was _trying_ to steer into the safer waters of light banter.

“Oh. Well, you know…,” Jim seemed to grapple with something. “The usual…? Hot drinks. Stuff to loosen congestion… pain meds…,” he offered, haltingly, with this adorable pout trying to form on his elegant lips.

Harvey smiled wider and said nothing, waiting how this one played out. Jim’s possible guilt wasn’t doing him any favors this morning. He was going to spill something, something he considered _personal_ , and the next sentences proved Harvey right.

Jim’s blue eyes flicked over his face. “Lee… she said I was far too tense, that tense shoulders only worsened the cold, so she’d give me this massage… with warm lavender oil.” He frowned and shrugged irritably, like he was helpless what to do in the face of such unnecessary indulgences of his former fiancé.

“… it was nice,” he added, so quiet Harvey almost missed it.

_You liked the girly stuff a bit more than you felt comfortable with admitting to her, huh?_

Jim raised his eyes to Harvey’s again, all irritated and fond and pissed, as Harvey swallowed a lump of longing.

“ _That’s_ what you want? A massage?” Jim bit out, suddenly _very_ Gordon-like, all business, more a terse statement than an honest question.

“Well, if you’re offering a sick old man such a luxury, I sure wouldn’t say no,” Harvey supplied lightly, heart racing at the way Jim studied him with stormy eyes.

Jim considered this for several terse seconds, and Harvey sighed inwardly, mentally prepared for the topic to be dropped like a hot potato. Of course, Jim wouldn’t do that.

“Why not,” Jim said.

_Wait, what?_

“And you’re hardly an _old_ man…,” Gordon added with a smirk. “Just a bit gray.”

Harvey glowed, heart skipping time.

“Barely pushing 46, I know…,” he said, giving a sly wink at Jim’s derisive snort. Maybe it was the giddy relief of seeing more fragments of Gordon reappearing that made his tongue loose.

“If you’re any good at it, I can repay the favor, hmm? You know, before I could get my hands on you yesterday, you started snoring your scaly ass off… so I still owe you one,” Harvey heard himself, throat tightening even as the words left his traitorous lips.

The Boy Scout stared at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, though his face was blank, devoid of any expression.

“A massage?” Harvey clarified, feeling odd that he was _making_ this odd by clarifying it in the first place. He never did that.

The other man nodded, stare holding.

“…it’s a deal,” Jim grunted out, sounding pissed at – himself? At Harvey? – for striking that very deal. It was really very close to the stoic man Harvey knew… and yet.

_Think I’d like that._

The unspoken sentence seemed to hang in mid-air between them, source unknown, disappearing before either of them could blink.

Was Harvey really just _imagining_ this?

“… but first, let me get you a few things for that cold. You need rest. Honestly… you look like a sack of fish,” Jim proclaimed a little hastily, card deck folding back into obscurity and so Gorden-ishly blatant.

Before Harvey could protest, the other nodded in a determined fashion and was rolling off his edge of the bed, tail and all. A hiss of pain was heard as his partner’s scaled body hit the hard floor next to the bed.

“… unn.”

“Jim…,” Harvey groaned, throwing an eyeroll towards the ceiling. “Jeez, _don’t_. Don’t force yourself like this... that’s not -,”

“It’s fine,” Jim reassured, looking back up over the trailing towels and sheets, the rest of his body hidden by the bed itself. “Stay. Let me take care of it.”

_Stay._

He grabbed some of the towels off the bed. “Tail’s almost dry anyway, I can feel it tingling. Give me a minute…,”

Harvey coughed and winced at the pressure in his head and sinuses, pulling the sheets back to his chest. Really, he wanted to throttle Jim for this sudden recklessness towards his own health, but then, he knew it was unavoidable for his partner to lose the tail at some point in the day, he wasn’t naïve.

_But did Jim have to push himself into unbearable pain so freaking casually, right in front of him…?_

Sure enough, he listened to the merman viciously rubbing at his scales with the towels, reminiscent of that soulless way Jim had tended to dry himself off at the precinct. Harvey closed his eyes at the sudden, tense silence he knew, followed by the now trademark, stifled whimpers of pain as half his partner’s body broke and remolded itself into a different shape.

_God, if only I could prevent that pain._

This whole rodeo was becoming so normal, it was sickening, all in and of itself. But there was no way to protect Jim from it, not if he wanted to live like nothing had changed. Not if he wanted to… be human.

“Earth to Jim?” he asked gently towards the side of the bed where he’d last seen his friend. “Buddy, you okay there?”

Slowly, Jim’s head rose up again. He blinked at him over the edge of the bed, lashes low with depleted energy directly after his shift. The Boy Scout didn’t answer the question, but the haggard flinch of a smile said enough.

“Maybe you should lie down a moment…,” Harvey suggested. Of course, Jim shook his head.

“No. It will pass, just… weak…,” Jim gave a yawn, showing his pearly whites. “It’s tiring to deal with,” he added, rather needlessly.

Whether Jim was referring to his meltdown or shifts in general was left to speculation.

He shifted on the floor, head coming to rest on the edge of the bed.

“Harv?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have my bathrobe back…?” Jim asked, tips of his ears pink as he looked up meekly. He twisted his head around against the sheets, gorgeous blue eyes trained on him, sublimely feline in his motions. “Please?”

“… yeah. Uh. Sure,” Harvey said, mouth gone very dry at the word _please_ , in that _tone_.

Of course, the Boy Scout didn’t want to walk around buck naked.

He peeled himself out of the bathrobe, very glad of the Tee and his boxers as he handed over the warm garment. He knew who looked great naked, and who didn’t.

Jim nodded his thanks, flung on the robe and rose to stand. Harvey tried not to gape as a distracting flash of smooth thigh and faintly hairy calf muscle disappeared behind fuzzy dark blue cover. The Boy Scout tied the belt in an expert knot. Harvey was proud how well he stifled the breezy sigh while he watched on from the bed.

“Let’s see about that medication…,” Gordon said, plodding out of the room dutifully. He left the door to the living room ajar.

“Right,” Harvey said weakly, to no one in particular. God, his head throbbed for about five different reasons at once.

He waited, feeling his heart tighten, but to his relief Jim returned very shortly, one hand holding a large glass of water, the other a few meds. A red scarf hung loosely over one of his shoulder. Jim tilted his head at him, his beautifully disheveled hair catching the light, just _so_ , and suddenly it seemed hard to have any coherent thoughts as the vision stepped closer.

Harvey needed a moment until he grasped what the man wanted him to do. He moved over hurriedly, making room for Jim to sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, still balancing the glass like the dangerous object it was.

“Here,” Jim said, offering it and the meds. “Maybe you should take a few of these?” He worried at his lip when Harvey didn’t move, staring back at him, mildly speechless.

“Please?” Jim prompted anxiously, shoulders sinking under the bathrobe. “Not gonna poison you.”

That wasn’t at _all_ what Harvey was grappling with right now. It was the _demure_ look Jim was sending him that was throwing him off, badly. The Gordon part seemed to be winking in and out of existence too fast to process, a flickering candle flame in the wind.

“Uh…yeah…,” Harvey said, forcing himself to blink and act normal.

 

He almost missed establishing a grip on the glass. His body felt numb as his friend didn’t move a muscle, patiently watching, blue eyes soft beneath golden lashes while Harvey swallowed down a few painkillers and tablets to relieve congestion.

Jim’s eyes crinkled when Harvey drained the glass with a slurp.

“Guess you were kinda thirsty, huh?” he joked. “Nice to know I’m not the only one.”

“Uff. Thanks, man. Really needed that,” Harvey said. The cool water alone was a great relief after the scratchiness in his throat. And he wasn’t going to lie here, Jim sending him that soft look was enough to make him feel _years_ younger.

“… you’re welcome,” Jim rasped quietly, leaning in and draping the scarf around Harvey’s neck with a reverent air. “Least I can do. Now _rest_. You deserve a break.”

Jim’s eyes filled all of Harvey’s vision, before he leaned back with smile. It hadn’t been long, but there had been something unbelievably _fond_ in those cobalt vortexes, Harvey was sure of it. The afterglow of that fleeting look left him gasping. To be on the receiving end of kindness and gentle fondness… he hadn’t ever dared dream about it, not in this sincere quantity or quality, at least. He didn’t know how to deal with it either, now that it was happening. It was all a little unreal.

They gazed at each other for a – at least for Harvey, _bewildered_ – second, deep ocean washing over blurry-gray forest green.

Wordlessly, Jim stood up again, turning away as if to leave the room, then briefly stopped to adjust the robe covering his naked body.

It was too much to witness, far too _much_ , the way Jim canted his body under the bathrobe, one hip higher than the other, clearly visible even through those annoyingly formless folds, a long-fingered hand curling around the belt… the way his lashes lowered as he shivered slightly, nose unconsciously grazing against the warm softness of the robe covering his shoulder… _oh_ _gawd_ , but it couldn’t be that Jim was _sniffing_ at it… was he?

Jim scenting the robe still radiating Harvey’s body heat was… a seriously distracting image. If he was doing that. But he couldn’t be.

Maybe Harvey actually _zoned_ _out_ there like a star-struck teenager, an out of body experience of intense _longing_ , because when he came back, Jim’s stance had hardened into something a lot more tense and human.

Also, judging by Jim’s fixed stare, he’d just missed at least one, maybe several questions aimed at him.

“Huh?” Harvey said, face completely slack, stomach flopping helplessly.

Seriously, he was feeling more and more like this _couldn’t_ _possibly_ _be_ _real_ as the body snatcher in Jim’s handsome body asked again, faintly prissy, if Harvey was hungry and how he felt about something hot to eat?

Harvey garbled answer was apparently close enough to a “That would be darn nice, Jim” for the Boy Scout to be satisfied.

“Try and rest, Harv. I’ll be right back,” he stated, apparently full-fledged nurse now and carrying it off too fucking perfectly for this to be anything other than the sappiest dream Harvey had never allowed himself to have.

He nodded. Jim nodded back at him, eyes holding an expression he couldn’t fathom for the life of him, and left the room. Harvey leaned back against the cushions and took a deep breath, hating it when it made him cough all over again.

Maybe, he argued to himself, he was in some state of shock? He wasn’t complaining about the developments, but… what in the _hell_?

He listened to Jim get down to work, doing _god knew what_ in the kitchen, as his mind raced.

If only he hadn’t zoned out, then he’d know what Jim was trying to do in there. Surely, he wasn’t cooking? He hoped Jim wasn’t trying to cook. The man shouldn’t strain himself, especially not right now, and not for _him_. How had this reverse caretaking happened? It was a nasty cold, that was all, not life-threatening by any measure. Not worth all this beautiful, doe-eyed, Boy Scout focus!

What if Jim hurt himself in the process of cooking for him? Honestly, he felt uncertain if the broken man rumbling around in the background could safely handle anything remotely sharp right now, who he even _was_. Should he get up and check on him? As he lay there, Harvey tried to remember how many sharp things made up the Boy Scout’s ramshackle kitchen implements. Did Jim have sensible kitchen knives?

 _T_ _hen again. Maybe Jim needed this. Maybe this was the best thing for him, right now, the feeling he was managing something on his own, a fleeting impression of control? Following a conviction that he was “doing something right”, like he’d said?_

It could be crucial to let Jim do this _freakily_ _good_ caretaking. Wouldn’t it be worth the worrying? A little worry – and the fear Harvey harbored that he was readily giving in to some self-indulgence - didn’t matter as much as giving Jim the chance to heal, right?

_Am *I* doing the right thing or the wrong thing here?_

Tough question.

As infuriating as the man could be at full strength, he wanted his Boy Scout back, happy and healthy. Harvey couldn’t deny it, but he loved the man clanking away in the kitchen… any and all parts of him. He needed to be the better man, so Jim could regain himself.

And thinking back to Jim’s breakdown… and maybe last night, if it hadn’t been a dream… that had had been so _awful_ , fucking downright disturbing, to witness. It had been a shock, and it still was, the certain proof that a man like Jim Gordon could be reduced to such a broken thing within the span of a single week, clinging to him and crying its little heart out.

He never wanted his best friend to get to that kind of state of mind again, _ever_. Jim needed somebody to keep him safe.

The kid’s reactions had been so understandable, but also so _unlike_ the stoic, stubborn guy he thought he knew. Still, it seemed fitting that this side of Jim existed, vulnerable and completely touch-starved. Usually buried so very deep in his psyche that maybe even Jim himself hadn’t consciously known about it, before. A yearning to be held and comforted.

There had been glimpses of the despair and insecurity, gaining on them over the last years, but yesterday had been the first time for Harvey to see into right into the giddying _depths_ of the man’s frailty with such shocking _nakedness_. He knew that he knew Jim fairly well, but even Harvey hadn’t guessed quite _how_ _dark_ Jim’s inner core of self-flagellation had become, completely ignoring even his most basic needs. It was time for that to stop.

Yeah, if Jim could learn to let out this endearing softness a little more behind closed doors, if he found the trust to incorporate it into his domineering personality… like maybe earlier, _whatever_ that had been, Harvey wouldn’t exactly mind that. It would be nice, if Jim kept a maybe a sliver of that submissiveness for special occasions, whomever he wanted to spend those special occasions _on_. But Harvey wasn’t going to _insist_ upon it, or _expect_ it. Jim would never love him back, not any more than a brother, anyway. That should be enough. Harvey had to remember his place here.  It was ridiculous to think it possible, to hope for the Boy Scout’s true devotion. Even after that look, earlier. That had just been Jim’s extreme gratitude towards him. Which was already more than Harvey would have ever expected. He should be thankful for the attention Jim was currently showering upon him, not confused with a wildly thudding heart.

To someday see Jim content and happy, that was what he strived for… even if that meant for Jim not having Harvey as his significant other. Heartbreak… well, Harvey just wouldn’t call it that, when it happened. Maybe then it would hurt less?

Unbelievable, but that was what he felt as he lay in Jim’s warm bed, the feeling rolling and tinkling around in the recesses of his heart, tiny metal balls of an eighties slot machine, when he thought of him… a deep craving for the other man to be _happy_ , _truly_ _happy_ , against all odds. Harvey would do _anything_ to allow that to happen, even walk away, if it would help the Boy Scout find happiness. He was such a sap, hopeless. But he knew what this was, what was overruling the secret hopes of his little lonely heart. It was the very, _very_ _worst_ and the rarest form of love: The purest, most selfless kind… for Jim Gordon, of all people.

The submissive creature that Jim sometimes reverted into…, it was _gorgeous_ , so damn _willing to please_ that it made Harvey want to _eat_ him. There was a snarling part in the furthest corner of Harvey’s primate brain that wanted that, wanted _Jim_ just like _that,_ as horrific as it was to Harvey that such a part existed within. But that part be damned, he wasn’t ever going to fall into something arguably abusive, justifying it with the depth to which Jim was making him feel alive again. It still wouldn’t be right. He loved Jim far too much to give in to that… dark pulse to _take_ him. Not without his explicit _consent_.

Harvey would do anything _for_ Jim, anything _to_ Jim, _and_ _so_ _damn_ _gladly – god help him when he thought of the things he wanted to lavish upon the man!!! -_ , but _only_ with the Boy Scout’s explicit consent.

Now if you’d possibly just lost your mind, consent was a bit of a tricky one.

Harvey couldn’t be sure about whether Jim had been able to _give_ that consent to caretaking yesterday, but he was hoping that he’d reacted correctly to Jim’s needs, hadn’t forced Jim into anything he hadn’t truly wanted. He also hoped he was good enough to keep it up the self-less caretaking, to hold on to those honest best intentions for Jim’s wellbeing. It was good that he had received consent again when he mentioned the caretaking, right? At least that’s how he’d interpret the nod of Jim and the “I remember”. Maybe he was worrying himself unnecessarily with this business of consent. Jim could be himself enough to give consent to caretaking, give it _willingly_ , out of his _own free will_. Hopefully Jim wasn’t feeling pushed.

Far from it that Harvey was going to push Jim to become _whole_ immediately, either. Forcing him to mend too fast might be as depraved as keeping him broken!

This was complicated, but Harvey was trying to grasp the situation as best he could, for a detective past his prime.

Jim needed time to heal, it was pretty obvious. Anyone would, most especially after all _that_.

The healing process would prove to be difficult, even more so for someone like Jim. After the decidedly abnormal stuff he’d been put through, could anyone, Harvey included, truly understand the depth of Jim’s pain? There had been a lot of horrible stuff in the past years for the Boy Scout to wade through. More than the fair share, even before being turned into a different freaking _species_. After the things he’d voiced yesterday between his loud sobbing, Harvey figured that Jim couldn’t have had much loving support as a child or something remotely close to a normal, wholesome childhood. He’d known about the father’s death, but maybe things hadn’t _ever_ been great in the Gordon family home. It would certainly explain a few things about Jim as a grown-up. In total, it was a hell of a lot of crap that had come together, by Harvey’s reasoning, and perfectly explained Jim’s unstable self-esteem and the pulsing self-hatred under a façade of professional surface calm. The way Jim clung to the idea that at the end of the day, he’d always be alone, and only had himself to rely on.

But Jim was wrong about that.

He needed to realize he had at least _one_ other person in his life who would never desert him willingly.

If Harvey wanted to swear one thing, it was this: God be his witness, but would do his damnest to show Jim the light in the future, shine it for him. If Harvey could somehow _coax_ Jim into the light, similar to coaxing a traumatized animal out of a poacher’s cage, he would invest all he had, _all_ _he_ _was_ , to ensure it happened. He would sacrifice everything, even his own _soul_ , though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

And after that Damage Control, Jim was going to be spoilt incredibly _rotten_ by him, if he would allow Harvey to do so. _Spoilt_ _rotten_. Because he fucking _loved_ the self-righteous idiot, dammit, when had he become so fundamentally screwed?!

Harvey would feed the beautiful creature cake by the ocean every day, if he only wanted.

He would move to the fucking _end of the world_ \- like Tuvalu, or something - if Jim wanted. He’d try to survive off the wild bananas and maybe the merman could do some fishing, too. They would get by. Jim could be free to swim though the coral forests, stretching his gorgeous tail as much as he liked, and maybe return to him every night when the tide came in, like in some sappy fairy tale.

It wasn’t a bad image. Harvey could imagine far worse uses for his hard-won earnings and pension money, than hand-feeding crab meat to his object of adoration on golden sands, both of them sporting tans like pros.

This was _insane_ , but Harvey knew he meant it. He would go to those lengths, and more, frankly _any distance_ , if it made Jim happy.

If only Jim would have him, love him, could _accept_ somebody like him as his partner in every aspect of life. If only the age gap wasn’t quite as big, if Harvey were happier with his own body. If only Harvey wasn’t a lowly five of ten even on his best days, a sad drunk with one friend who knew his flaws too well… but. He loved Jim anyway, even if he couldn’t have him like _that_.

_Damn, I’m getting depressed. Cut it out, Bullock. Leave your morose thoughts till you can get yourself nicely drunk, and have a pretty lady take the edge off…_

Harvey sighed, twisting his throbbing head into the pillow.

He shouldn’t think about what a part of his heart _longed for_ and would never get.  

He should think about Jim _needed_ desperately: A selfless love that no one, maybe rightly so, had never tried to bestow upon him. The idiot had no doubt convinced himself that Lee had done so during in their worryingly up-and-down-relationship, but Harvey knew better. No one had ever loved Jim with quite this kind of reckless self-abandon as he was, and the man didn’t even _know_ how deeply he was loved. It was better that way. Telling Jim could only go pear-shaped.

He needed to tread carefully, so freaking _carefully_.

Letting Jim do stuff in the kitchen for a few minutes would be okay… right?

Jesus, _okay_.

He needed to _relax_ … just thinking about the man was going to give him a heart attack otherwise.

Harvey sighed again and cleared his throat, burying into the slightly damp sheets.

He been pushing himself pretty bad in the past days, trying to help Jim, all the carrying und _lugging_ , and the _constant_ drenching. It was true: He was exhausted, too. Of course, he’d keep doing it, for Jim. But he wasn’t exactly twenty-something anymore. Some rest _would_ be nice… also, now he’d caught this cold. His nose felt blocked and swollen, and his throat was so scratchy and hot. The throb in his head was nearing painful. Yeah, check. He was actually pretty damn sick.

For a cold.  

_Sure, no big deal. But, not comfortable, either._

_It would be nice to be taken care of, maybe a little… once?_

_Can I allow myself that? Can I trust Jim to take care of himself enough while doing that, or not?_

Listening in again to the sounds coming through the open door, he noticed that whatever Jim was doing, it didn’t seem to involve a lot of clanking. It had gone fairly quiet in the kitchen.

So, Jim wasn’t cooking? He could be doing something else, although Harvey had no idea what.

 _Relax_. 

But he couldn’t, the thoughts just continuing to circle and _circle_.

Could Jim Gordon cook…?

Harvey was sure his friend’s cooking abilities didn’t exceed beyond frying an egg. Though he could be wrong, Jim was sometimes very enigmatic… maybe he had hidden talents Harvey knew nothing about?

Staring at the dark, paneled ceiling above him, he gave in to a moment of pure self-indulgence, starting to picture Jim in a starched apron, _all prim and proper_ , maybe with his golden hair slicked back _perfectly_ , with a black bow tie and a black silk suit… holding the spatula like a weapon, ready to take out the eye of the next assailant… _uff_ , damn it. Seriously _hot_.

If it was – weirdly - hot on Mr. Pennyworth, that lithe and _deadly_ butler of his best friend’s favorite puppy Bruce Wayne, then wouldn’t it be _smoking_ _hot_ on Jim Gordon? Uh-huh. You _betcha_ …

He was _lost_ to the guy.

Harvey sighed. These thoughts were not exactly helpful for keeping cool… not helpful at all.  

Jim wasn’t going to take all day doing whatever he was doing?

_Waiting for your master’s call already?_

Maybe he was sicker than he thought.

 _Sick with selfless love_. _You big idiot. What have you done?_

He did feel hot, though, truth be told…

_God._

The last thing he wanted was Jim to have to care for him if he sported a fever… after having just had a traumatizing fever spell himself. That would be some bad luck.

_Jim shouldn’t be taking care of you at all. It should be the other way round._

_You promised to take good care of him, and now you’re just lying here, in his bed._

_What the hell are you doing, Harvey Bullock?!_

Just then, Harvey’s ears caught worrying sounds, in very rapid succession, coming from the other room.

First, he heard an intake of breath, loud, along with a sharp breaking sound, like porcelain. A second later there came the sound of a heavy crash, together with a stifled, pained cry, and those… _ugly_ _tearing_ and _snapping_ _sounds_ … _ugh_. Last, a whimper, followed by a string of annoyed curses, muttered darkly.

_Oh shit, he shifted?! What happened?!_

Harvey jolted upright as if stung, half out of bed already.

“Jim?!” he hollered loudly, almost panicky.

“ _Stay where you are!!_ ” Jim barked back unseen, shaky but stern. “ _M’fine_! Don’t get up...!”

Harvey stopped moving.

_Okay, well, awkward urge to go look-see anyway..._

On the other hand, Jim had sounded quite like _himself_? Maybe something stupid had happened, but nothing threatening?

Almost a relief to hear Jim bark at him like that. There was some Gordon rattling around in that husk. _Good._ Harvey hoped it wouldn’t stay so like a mirage, a fleeting shadow. These hairpin turns were hard to keep up with.

Again, Harvey forced himself to remember that maybe Jim needed this attempt at self-sufficiency… needed and _deserved_ it.

“… are you alright?” he queried, leaning sideways to glance through the gap in the half-open door to the living room, a comprise to his own conflicting wishes. He couldn’t see past the couch.

Damn it…

“Stupid accident is all…,” Jim’s voice called from the other room. Now he sounded… sheepish? A little pissed?

“Jim. I’m not an imbecile. Let me come help you?” Harvey offered, trying to keep his tone light and teasing, not controlling.

Baby, please let me help you.

A pregnant pause.

“No…let me try this,” Jim called out. “I’ll m-manage…,”

Okay, so that sounded less self-assured, a bit pleading, but determined… less Gordon… but still enough?

“As long as you’re sure…,” Harvey said.

“Yeah. Give me a minute?”

Something heavy was dragging itself across the room towards the bathroom. The sounds sounded… sleek, smooth scales slithering over hardwood floorboards. And little elastic slapping sounds… the tail fluke probably, flopping awkwardly, maybe trying to propel forward? So, then Jim had shifted.

That was the sound of a merman, mutely struggling to get himself to the bathroom to clean up… whatever had happened to cause the shift this time. 

Harvey felt curious, mostly worried.

_Baby, what happened?_

He waited, hearing clunking noises from the bathroom, and faint curses. The sound of a hair dryer followed, on a low setting. Then, again, that awful whimper, obviously muffled against something to dampen the sound. The faint cracks of bones being remolded at lightning speed. 

_Argh, am I ever really going to get used to those unnatural sounds?_

After a pause of maybe a minute, he heard another whimper.

Then footsteps.

Jim hobbled through the door and sighed when he caught sight of Harvey’s frown. He clutched the bathrobe closed with shaking hands. The Boy Scout looked so horribly tired, after his second shift in a few minutes. Harvey bit his lip guiltily. 

_Shouldn’t have let him out of my sight, after all… look at him. He should be resting, too._

“M’fine,” Jim insisted gruffly, the skin around his eyes creasing into painfully embarrassed look. “I can do this.”

Harvey nodded and smiled, playing at being unperturbed. “Course you can.”

 _I trust you, Putz. Just want you to be safe, ‘kay?_

Jim scanned his face, relaxing slightly. Something was wrong with his hair, but Harvey couldn’t quite put his finger on it, not from that distance and without his glasses.

_Were those… pieces of carrot? Jim, what the hell happened to you?_

“… need to get…,” Jim groused, ducking his head as if to hide the evidence and walking over to the dresser.

_Ah. Yes. No more cooking without some more protection than a bathrobe?_

“Sure,” Harvey said brightly, feeling almost caught when Jim sent him this flat look.

_Should take him shopping sometime… don’t want him running out of underwear._

_Watch him, while he buys super-expensive, pristine underwear…the kind that befits him._

_Or, even better, watch him in secret, as he looks for what he wants… his long fingers trailing across the price tags, over silk, over panty hose, and maybe something frilly when no one is looking? Maybe even something forbidden, that he’d never actually buy. Something sexy and girly perhaps, black silk and peach-colored ribbons, a perfect package for a perfect package. Something that clings to that glowing skin, caresses it… ah, shit. Stop it, stop it… stop it!!!_

Jim had turned his back on Harvey, rummaging somewhat stiffly through the contents of his dark wooden dresser. Looking over, Harvey saw him pull out a pair of folded dark blue boxers and some… _god_ , some more of those ridiculously white _socks_ … from out the top drawer.

_Argh, not fair. Not the socks as well!_

Harvey felt an urge to bite into the pillow and somehow muffle the whine of longing he felt bubbling up in the back of his throat.

 _Too much for any besotted idiot like him to bear lying down…_

How many pairs of white socks did the Boy Scout have…and how did he keep them so _white?_

The man was a laundry god, knew weird womanly bleaching secrets, or something. Harvey wouldn’t put it past him, after all, who pressed their shirts at work when they had a spare minute?

_Jim, for my sanity and yours, don’t get dressed here, in front of me._

_Not today. I’m sick, I’m suffering enough as it is! ___

____

_Put on your white socks somewhere freaking else, before I lose my self-control._

____

_I do not want to wrestle you to the carpet, please have mercy - for both our sakes!_

____

Harvey was incredibly relieved when Jim clutched the underwear and walked out without another word.

____

Moments later, the clanking noises in the kitchen started up again. 

____

_No. Seriously? … again?_

____

"Hey, whatever you’re doing… don’t waste your time. I’m – I’m not that hungry,” Harvey called, simply hating how shaky his voice sounded.

____

_Bullock, keep it together! You’re stronger than this._

____

“It won’t take long,” Jim declared from the kitchen. “And I’m not wasting my time, Harv. Want to do this. _You_ stay put.”

____

Harvey sighed softly. It hurt his head to worry like this. 

____

“…okay.”

____

_Stay cool. He’s okay for now, and determined to do this alone. Good sign? Right. What else could possibly go wrong…?_

____

A lop-sided smile came to his bearded face as he rolled his eyes at the ceiling. 

____

_Everything could go wrong, obviously. But I’m here. I’m right here, Jim. Don’t you forget that._

____

Harvey wondered if the weekend was going to be the best, the worst, and the most tiring one in his entire life. It wasn’t unlikely, but he didn’t care how tiring and confusing it was going to get. Not as long as he was allowed to stay in Jim’s flat and keep an eye on him. 

____

Fine. So the Boy Scout really wanted to take care of him now? Bring it on. He would try and take Nurse Jim as best he could without dissolving into a drooling mess of intense longing.

____

Then it was only fair for it to be Jim’s turn for some caretaking. Harvey Bullock intended to keep his promises. 

____

He had Jim’s consent, so… he just had to follow through while trying to hold on to that delicate balance. Oh god. But hell, he could do it.

____

Jim needed a break more than he did, and Harvey was the right person to give the Boy Scout that much-deserved break. Hand feeding, hair washing, cuddling, whatever the man desired… anything he wanted, he just needed to say it, and Harvey would give it willingly. 

____

Gladly until the Boy Scout himself was drooling in content and comfort. 

____

Gladly beyond that point, even, if Jim would let him… argh, god help him if that image didn’t make him dizzy. It was going to be a beautifully agonizing weekend.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think, if you'd like to share :).  
> Can you guess what happened to Jim in the kitchen? XD
> 
> Unfortunately, had a very hard time with this chapter, maybe also due to the fact that the last 2.5 weeks have been such unbearable torture in reality. Also, uploading this has taken... HOURS, and destroyed my formatting in part, uh. Really appreciate every comment and kudo, maybe now more than ever! All you loyal readers, but most especially the commentators, breathe life into me. Thank you for hanging around, you're freaking awesome!!! <33\. 
> 
> Know the end of the chapter may not be fully satisfying? Maybe you were missing the Hair Kink and other stuff, oh dear. I'm sorry, getting there! This was so hard to write. God. At +7 K words, I decided I had to draw at line for my own sanity (It's also quite hard to write at all under the current circumstances, don't know how I got this much down in hindsight). Please look forward to the progression of the fluff and caretaking in further chapters! Ugh, gonna get sooo damn sugary we might all feel a little ill XD. Do not fear - I am NEVER going to abandon this fic, but it might take a bit longer between chapters than usual. 
> 
> Song suggestions:  
> Calvin Harris - "Feel So Close" 
> 
> "I feel so close to you right now  
> It's a force field  
> I wear my heart upon my sleeve  
> like a big deal  
> Your love pours down on me  
> surrounds me like a waterfall  
> And there's no stopping us right now  
> I feel so close to you right now..."
> 
> Chvrches - "Leave a Trace"
> 
> "I know I need to feel released  
> Take care to tell it just as it was  
> Take care to tell on me for the cause  
> I know I need to feel released  
> Take care to bury all that you can  
> Take care to leave a trace of a man..."


	14. Stubborn confused bastards that we are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument ensues between our favorites - but as usual, maybe they aren't even arguing about the things they think they're arguing about! ;) Basically Harvey and Jim each have a freak-out. Don't even know what to call this - The boys kind of talk and kind of don't talk, ha ha XD!  
> WARNINGs for some Angst, faint references to homophobia (Or the fear of receiving it), high emotional tension ((- maybe even close to Jim's breakdown for a stretch)).  
> Hell of a lot of dialogue in the chapter, though. Let me just leave this here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kicking. Surprise! But yeah. Been a hard couple of months. Anyway. After struggling through about six re-writes of this chapter and suffering a severe bout of Writer's Block on top of it all, decided this wants to be the way it is. Maybe that's okay. I apologize this is moving so slowly... its ridiculous real-time drama! Heed my intense love for complicated relationships. Every single relationship in Gotham is a complicated, beautiful wreck in my eyes. But, fool that I am, that just makes me love the characters all the harder.   
> Gordlock forever, man. SHIP 'EM HARD!!! They deserve it XD.
> 
> Also: +9000 words!!! Hope so much you like it. Please let me know what you think if you have the time? Or cite the parts you like back at me ;).

Harvey must have drifted off at some point. The sharp clunk near his head woke him up pretty quick, though.

His eyes flew open in shock. “GAH!!”

He fought with the bedsheets for a second, hand going to his hip in search of his service weapon as someone exhaled sharply to his right. Then he remembered where he was – in bed. In _Jim’s_ _bed_ , to be exact. Groggily, he blinked up at Jim, stifling a cough.

_He’s right there. Jesus, you’re going cuckoo._

Harvey’s head had gotten a lot worse while he napped. Now he had a chorus of sledgehammers pounding against the inside of his temples.

“Give a guy some warning, would ya…!” he groused. _Because_ , dammit. Here he was, sick, when… when he should be taking care of Jim… and… shit, how had this happened again?

Jim glanced at him with those big blue eyes as he let go of the tray he’d placed on the nightstand. He stepped back and crossed his arms, eyebrows lifting. “Didn’t realize you were sleeping…,”

 _(“Or_ _that_ _you’re_ _this_ _jumpy_ _when_ _you’re_ _sick_ …”)

Harvey thought he heard that comment _in_ _his_ _head._ In Jim’s incredulous voice, as well. It was faint and sketchy, but… _shit_. No way he was imagining that.

“… is the cold getting worse?” Jim continued in his real voice, markedly less intonation, if a touch rough around the edges.

Maybe he hadn’t registered his friend’s mood, but his shoulder blades seemed tense under the bathrobe. Harvey tried not to glare at his partner, but this new development made him… well, uneasy.

_He’d been thinking it was some crazy intuition… or a just a dream last night._

_But… what, telepathy now?_   _Really?_

Harvey could deal with physical stuff. Witnessing Jim’s shifts was something he could learn to accept, to tolerate, even though it made his stomach twist in horror and empathic pain. However, he was the type who, - for all his dark humor -, had always hated the ghost stories. The creepy stuff. Uncanny valley stuff. Bad juju. You name it.

Telepathic communication seemed just as wrong.

He couldn’t quite put it into words why creepy stuff put him so on edge, especially the out-of-body, ghost-y stuff. Had he considered it for longer, he would have been positive his displaced fear was linked to the ghastly stories his older cousins had used to terrify him with. They had liked to ridicule his god-fearing childish nature, the only kid in the bunch of five who kinda _liked_ going to church and helping his mother at home. Or how they had found it incredibly funny to lock him up in a crypt all night, once. Not his finest moment.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?!” he barked aggressively. Jim’s eyes pinched, arms tightening around his body.

“Yeah…,” Jim replied, speaking slowly as he contemplated him with a hint of hurt. “Guess so.”

Harvey wasn’t imagining this, right? Now he seemed to be randomly picking up the Boy Scout’s thoughts. He felt like an outdated radio still capable of snaring a scrap of music now and then, but unreliable at establishing a strong connection.

Well it couldn’t be _him_. Had to be Jim’s doing.

 _Weird unstable mind-meld merman hippy shit_ _happening to them both_ , he reasoned.

Did Jim _realize_ what was happening? Did he have any active control over it?

Also…  did the shaky connection work _both_ _ways_?

God, no. Talk about worst nightmare! One of them, at least.

* DO YOU READ THIS?! *

Harvey attempted to envision himself hurling the thought at the Boy Scout in a booming inner voice, with all the strength he had. He didn’t feel like the guru type though. The whole “envisioning-thingy” was freaking odd, and he doubted he was good at it. He honestly didn’t even _want_ it to work… but he’d caught _Jim_ doing it in the light of day, now. He couldn’t exactly ignore the threatening possibility, even if Jim seemed oblivious to his abilities. So far.

Yeah, he had to know if the connection worked both ways.

_What had really happened last night, then, or was it just a dream?_

Harvey didn’t know how to feel when nothing happened. Jim stared back at him and blinked once, owlishly, registering Harvey’s uneven breathing without saying a word.

Jim had that certain non-plussed look to his face, a stare he liked to wear when investigating Homicide. A classic Gordon mask. Under other circumstances, Harvey might have been relieved to see Jim like that, remolding himself back into a recognizably stoic shape. Not now, though. Now it made him feel edgy.

*JIM, I’M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU. IN MY HEAD. DO YOU READ ME??? *

Nothing.

_God, I swear if you’re toying with me here… might want to throttle you. Again. Just a little bit._

Harvey gave another cough, watching a line appear between those baby blues. For all the world it must look like they were holding a staring contest for no reason in the early lunchtime hours of a saturday morning.  

_Don’t make me… do this, Jim. Or make me think I have to cover my bases in my head too, now._

_First of all, it’s unnatural._

_Second, pretty damn sure you can’t really handle my thoughts… you shouldn’t need to handle them, anyway! Cause they’re private!_

_Don’t make this a thing. Don’t you think we have enough on our mutual plates?_

Harvey tried to collect himself, still watching for any tells, but his friend remained a fairly blank slate. He knew his partner was a pro at keeping a stony face, but surely Jim Gordon would give a twitch if he was hearing Harvey’s thoughts _all but screaming_ his name (The shock alone should get a rise out of him, right?). Hopefully his poker face wasn’t that good. _Damn_ this infuriating, beautiful creature!

“…is something wrong?” said beautiful creature’s voice cut through the tense silence. He still spoke very slowly, like he was sounding him out externally. Or talking to a madman. Which he probably was.

Harvey snorted mirthlessly.

_Everything’s becoming so surreal. There’s you. Then me. And now THIS._

“Know I’m not great at this…,” Jim admitted after a moment’s contemplation, voice lowering. “But… if there is anything else you need…?”

It would have been perfect for a tease or three at Jim’s expense… but Harvey couldn’t right now.

Jim’s face was pinched under the paleness of his skin, and grew more so when instead of a snarky or consoling reply, Harvey just groaned and rubbed his temples. Briefly dropping his critical gaze, he sat up. He let his head fall back against the headboard when he was finally upright.

“ _Fuck_ ,” that was the best verdict he could think of, sending a silent plea to whoever might be listening.

“Harv…,” Jim rasped in a low voice, then stopped, studying his counterpart almost anxiously as he sat there. Tired gray stubble across his chin, that distracting curtain of reddish-gray locks proudly brushed across one shoulder. Exhaustion and was Jim supposed might be a result of fever in the strained look of his face. Harvey’s dappled green eyes were sparking with an unusual hostility air as he leaned back, neck at an uncomfortable angle as he stared at him.

Harvey stared back at Jim: Pale-skinned and stiff, an alabaster statue. Dressed like a tramp… or maybe a rich Gothamite recuperating after a really _rough_ night in the Narrows. Worn gray tee and some trackpants hugging his body under a bathrobe made up of Prussian Blue fuzz. Stormy eyes careful under long lashes.

The Boy Scout’s hair was uncharacteristically unkept, stuck up on one side and… sticky? Harvey’s heart was going heavy with longing and equal measures of worry. He was curious to see what was wrong with those dark golden strands usually brushed and styled to mechanical perfection… but: Bigger problems.

_Self-deprecating, traumatized idiot._

Also, quite possibly the most emotionally (sexually?) repressed man, _ever_.

Who might be able to hear his thoughts… even his lewd ones? _Fun._

They were _so_ off-script here, Harvey wasn’t even sure after everything that had happened in just over a week this was true reality.

Outside, the rain rattled against the aged window panes. That seemed real enough, at least.

Their odd, silent intermezzo grated on Harvey’s psyche. He wanted to _look_ _away_ … he wanted to _keep_ _staring_. He didn’t know _what_ he wanted, except…

He shook his head. It didn’t do much to clear it.

“It’s fine. Just tired,” he sighed out, breaking the uncomfortable hyper-awareness trapping them like two flies in amber.

Jim had probably never looked at him with more concern.

He couldn’t stop from thinking about what it could _mean_ if Jim could hear thoughts. The real world was a cold, harsh place - Gotham maybe harsher than others. Telepathy felt like a threat… here, where playing both sides of the river wasn’t considered manly or even _sane_ by most.

Certainly not right _now_ in the late eighties, where you could lose your job or worse for it.

So, Harvey Bullock wasn’t ready for _anyone_ to know the full extent of his thoughts, let alone _hear_ his thoughts directly, vulnerable und unfiltered. Especially not Jim.

It wasn’t so much that he doubted Jim’s trust for a second – that his partner would betray his homosexual interests to others - Harvey doubted society though. And he _was_ worried about Jim’s _reaction_ – worried for overwhelming the man with his feelings, putting them upon him, unprepared… He was just a bag of worries at this point. Jim would probably get a stroke, or – actually, Harvey didn’t know _how_ Jim would react, but he _knew_ it would be a bad reaction.

Where _the_ _hell_ did that leave them, if telepathy had officially left the silver screen to manifest in Jim? “Advanced Merman Studies”, no kidding. Harvey wasn’t sure he’d mastered the basics yet, even _the_ _basics_ _of_ _Jim!_

* HEY, YOU! REACT, GODDAMMIT! I’D PREFER TO KNOW IF YOU CAN HEAR MY THOUGHTS. DAMN BOY SCOUT! *

Again, no reaction… although Jim’s gaze was a bit shiny as they _still_ continued to stare at each other… the tension in the room going up again.

Harvey groused a cough.

Maybe Jim could only _project_ thoughts, not receive them?

_Would be a relief, if his thoughts were safe inside his own freaking mind._

What if it turned out to be both, though, down the line? Harvey hoped he could deal with that. Hoped it would never come to pass. Telepathy, _both_ _ways_ , would cross a boundary he hadn’t considered – but it was there, and he was scared he wouldn’t be able to handle it if it was crossed.

The oddities surrounding Jim being a merman seemed to be gaining on them, sneaking up with every shift Jim’s body demanded he go through to keep his confounded genetics stable. Likely neither of them could know where this was going. That they would never know, until it _happened_. No security net, always fearing the worst.

Could he live like that? Could Jim?

Wasn’t as if they had a choice, Jim would say. But maybe Harvey should start making preparations, all the same. Just in case they had to leave Gotham, presto.

Jim had never asked for this, it had happened. Strange’s associate had dumped this bomb on them. God rain wrath upon that crazed psychiatrist who had used Jim’s greatest vulnerabilities against him in this way. _That_ was despicable – not what Jim had become, but what boundaries Strange had crossed to do it to him, and gladly.

He’d never leave his friend to deal with this on his own. Harvey had meant every promise he’d given. 

He just wasn’t going to address any of these subjects, directly, for Jim’s sake.

_Whatever you say. You’re a coward, Bullock. Don’t deny this is about you, too._

_Have you forgotten Jim’s incredulous look when you went major freak-out at the attempted grave-robbery of Galavan’s Duma ancestor? Think anyone else would charge into the most life-threatening situations, but scram like a scared four-year-old when it came to the mere thought of vengeful spirits? Telepathy is getting you into a mighty uncomfortable corner, huh?_

 “… _hate_ colds,” Harvey added, wincing at his own petulant, angry tone.

Almost detached, he watched Jim try to hide… was that a _pout_ at his continued failure to banter with him as usual?

Aww, was Jim _disappointed?_

Fucking cute.

If he were less sick, the thought would have cheered him – that Jim didn’t find their banter annoying or unprofessional, but liked indulging in it - when Harvey willingly played the catalysator. He’d always hoped relentless bantering could be guilty pleasure of the man. Would be nice to know the truth for once, to know the Boy Scout didn’t take part out of brotherly loyalty, but _missed_ it.

What was _wrong_ with him? (A lot of things, clearly.) He wasn’t usually… _mean_ to Jim. Not even in his mind.

_Look at the facts so far._

_So, let’s say Jim is somehow doing this. It’s not as if it’s his fault or even within his conscious control._

_He’ll probably be more freaked than you when he realizes it. Then it’s going to be on you to keep him in line. He’s still recovering, as well. You need to be the reliable friend, the anchor in stormy seas. He’s the one who’s had a breakdown – what’s your excuse? A cold – seriously, that’s a good enough reason for you to get petty and standoffish? And mean? Harvey Bullock, when were you ever mean to a person you like, on purpose? Get a handle, man._

 “Noticed that,” Jim stated in that low voice, the concerned look sticking. He nudged his head, indicating the tray. “So… something warm would help your throat?” he offered.

It felt like a shot in the dark to both of them.

Jim’s hands had sunken deep into the pockets of the bathrobe. He looked lost, just standing there… in his _own_ _bedroom_.

 _Great_.

Now he felt ungrateful. He knew very well Jim wasn’t usually the caring type, didn’t feel comfortable _trying_ _to_ _be_ the caring type. He’d made such a shockingly good start, nevertheless… yeah, Harvey felt like an ungrateful bastard.

“I – look, my head hurts and I just feel like shit. _Everything_ hurts. Nothing personal, alright?” Harvey tried to explain belatedly.

_Don’t I sound plaintive._

A tug of the lips was Jim’s only give-away. “Don’t worry about me for a second,” he said, gentler than Harvey had expected.

Harvey risked a glance towards the tray, anything to avoid the concerned gaze. He saw a steaming bowl of something. Next to it stood a cup of tea. Chamomile, maybe? He couldn’t smell it. His nose was completely blocked. He hadn’t been lying when he said hated colds… just omitting other, more pressing truths.

“So, what’s all this?” he growled, trying to sound less condescending.

“Food. Soup,” Jim answered, tense staccato of a soldier, in about the same voice he used when trying to explain why the GCPD had messed up on something.

_No, sir. Yes, sir._

_Had no choice but to shoot, sir._

_Was a life-or-death situation. Hostage losing her nerve. Couldn’t risk to wait. I apologize sir. We didn’t know the whole building would blow._

“I – didn’t have much in the house…,” Jim continued after a beat, skirting the apology. The faintly embarrassed look stated enough. “…and, uh, didn’t think you’d be into canned fish for breakfast, so…,”

Well. That cleared up the question if Jim was interested in cooking (Or had a rudimentary gist of the subject).

Harvey huffed and nodded.

_Damn straight. Soup was the better choice, Jim. Also, it’s lunch. Not breakfast._

Jim was so pale, hunched under his bathrobe like that. Harvey reprimanded himself: Course he was pale. Probably freezing. The man had gone through two shifts within the last twenty minutes, just to make him something to eat.

Not that he’d asked Jim to, he’d asked him _not_ to, dammit… however, the fact remained his friend had willingly broken his body at least once to make him feel better. They both knew he could have waited a little longer with the shift.

Unless Jim’s definition of friendship was going through some major adjustments, he didn’t do this for friends. Harvey couldn’t remember a single instance when Jim had shown this amount of concern towards friends… it had always been spouses.

“I thought tea should help?” Jim said, almost timidly interrupting Harvey’s musings.

He was so obviously out of his depth with how to proceed with this if the older man was being so hard-headed.

“… something else, Harv? Medication?” The faintly hopeless shrug under the bathrobe was nothing short of childishly charming.

 _(“Should I let him rest? … don’t know what to do… I’m doing it all wrong. Again…,”)_ Jim’s voice whispered mournfully though the halls of Harvey’s mind.

Harvey tried not to flinch violently - or jump up and run right out of the room.

_Oh, god. Fuck!_

This was going to take some… getting used to. But… was that Jim’s self-deprecating voice? He felt his heart crack further, if that was still possible. The Boy Scout wasn’t usually this _anxious_ , at least not about _Harvey_.

“No, no. Sorry Jimbo, that’s just fine…,” Harvey reassured, leaping into his usual persona out of nowhere. He sighed softly when he saw heavy relief flash through blue orbs. Damn the whole fucking world, but he loved him. He was screwed… but he got this. _He_ _got_ _this_. “Told ya I wasn’t hungry, though…,” he continued, fumbling for words. Felt like he was starting to multi-task here.

_Everyone knew he wasn’t good at that._

All Harvey wanted was the burning fire in the back of his throat to go away, the throbbing in his head to stop so he could curl up and _sleep_ … but the worry and fixation on Jim’s wellbeing wouldn’t let him relax. And the prospect of telepathy wouldn’t let him relax – if that’s what it was. Jim being not-quite-himself wouldn’t let him relax. He couldn’t relax, but he was so damn _tired_.

“You didn’t need to go to this trouble, do this to yourself, just for little old me… it’s not right, Jim.” he added in a croaky whisper.

_Of course, he wanted for Jim’s care and attention, because when would he ever get it again, in this laser-like intensity, when he would only ever be…? This was all he would get, and it was already more than he deserved._

Jim suddenly cocked his head, almost scowling. “What?”

_Unless he was dying, then maybe Jim would indulge him with this kind of attention again.  So yeah, he needed this brief moment, the stolen indulgence of Jim Gordon’s full attention, this Fata Morgana of fondness and concern, before it fizzled out into nothing…_

_Seriously. Who could really love someone like him?_

“You shouldn’t take care of me, Jim…,” he tried to explain aloud. Shit, it sounded like a _whine_.

Jim took a sharp breath. _Something_ sparked to life in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, a diver working up the courage for the plunge.  

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said. He swallowed thickly. “Said I wanted to do this?”

Harvey stared as Jim took a step forward. “You’re sick. Because of me. Least I can do is help.”

Harvey wondered if Jim’s hands were clenching in the dark folds when he added, an odd waver in his voice intensifying, “Not great at caring for someone. Failing. But I’m _trying_ , Harv.”

His eyes weren’t icing over. They weren’t shiny because of a trick of the light, or the gathering of bioluminescence in the cerulean corners.

_Oh no._

_Red-hot, a memory of Jim crying his eyes out, curled into Harvey’s stomach, scaled tail trembling with the severity of the sobs…_

Harvey swallowed, feeling a spike of alarm.

_I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… it’s just… this whole situation is overwhelming me!_

 “Jim…,”

 _(You’re right. I can’t do this alone. Never could. Even caring for you is something I manage to mess up…everything I touch, breaks…Trying to help and all I do is hurt you! Failing… always failing…)_ Jim’s telepathic waves cut through his mind, interrupting what he wanted to say.

_Jim’s thoughts sounded so toxic with self-hatred. So angry, and mournful._

“… this isn’t a test. You’re not failing,” Harvey soothed, maybe also to soothe himself. “Putz, you doing _great_ at this care taking thingy. Seriously. It’s like I told you, ‘kay? In a bad mood, that’s all. It doesn’t matter.”

Jim stepped closer. “Why don’t I believe that…,” he mumbled, the growing glow to his eyes illuminating the tears threatening to fall.

“I know this is on me. I’m- I’m sorry. Let me make it better?”

_Oh god, baby. Don’t give me ideas._

_(What am I doing? … as if I know how to make it better…)_

Harvey’s eyes stung. He was also _trying_ , dammit. But he was _hurting_ , too. 

_Of course. Jim thought it some kind of debt of their friendship. That was all. Harvey knew it was a Fata Morgana… this attention, this fond direction of caretaking wasn’t really Jim. He shouldn’t feel disappointed… he knew this about Jim, but loved him anyway._

_Truth be told, there was no reason why Jim should_ **need** _to care about a miserable, mean old fool like him. Jim could never care for him in the way he cared…  their roles couldn’t be reversed._

_Yet he longed for gentle touch, even in the knowledge that Jim couldn’t possibly **feel** the way he felt for him, nor give him the care he wanted to shower the Boy Scout with. Why couldn’t he just accept that?_

_Jim didn’t care for him like he did._

His object of adoration had gone still, chin jutting in defiance as he stared him down. The eerie glowing quality and the threat of tears did _nothing_ to dampen the intensity of his piercing gaze as he all but loomed over his partner.

“Harv…,” he intoned, in this shivering, low _growl_. “You _know_ I care.”

And Harvey _almost_ lost his shit.

* DID YOU CATCH THAT? JIIIMM?*

No reaction, unless you called a slight baring of teeth a reaction.

“Sure, just …. don’t go full investigation on me here,” he said, in the most placating tone he could pull off while screaming at Jim in his head. Hard as he wasn’t the multi-tasker.

“Then what do you mean, it doesn’t _matter_?” Jim insisted, not being thrown off the scent so easily. He looked wary.

Harvey shrugged. He was overwhelmed. He couldn’t think. No idea how to even start this conversation.

* JIM. STOP! *

But Jim stepped even closer. He crouched down next to the bed, hand smoothing over the bedsheet in an instinctive tendency to _straighten_ as he looked directly into Harvey’s eyes. There was a mixture of defiance and heartbreak shining out from under the Boy Scout’s lashes and residing in the hard tug of his lips.

_Gorgeous._

If he hadn’t already been in love with the man, he would have fallen hard under that look, the harshness and the softness combined into that one perfect expression.

Jim’s ears were turning pink as he held his gaze, and Harvey was _sure_ the Boy Scout wanted to back out of the emotions suddenly flashing through his face, but was too stubborn to do so. Too _desperate_ to make it right to care about his facial expressions anymore.

Jim never did that, to Harvey’s knowledge. Unless someone Jim cared about was in mortal danger, or he _thought_ that was the case.

“Whatever it is, it _should_ matter, Harv, and it _does_ ,” Jim growled, still struggling to keep his tone even as he stared, his own hurt rising to the surface.

“I care, Harv. _Of_ _course_ , I care...,” - his eyes grew searching, ghosting over his whole face, desperately searching for clues - “…maybe can’t talk, but can listen…,” The color to his ears was quite something as his voice suddenly dropped all pretense at being anything else than begging. “ _Please_.”

_Jesus._

Harvey dropped his gaze, schooling his face very carefully. “M’fine.”

_I can’t talk about this with you, Jim. Not sure either of us could handle it. Also, where to fucking start. This is all my fault._

He felt more than saw Jim’s eyes narrowing, head pitching to the side as he seemed to weigh his options.

“Harv… should I be more worried about you than I already am?” Jim finally spoke. The way his long fingers unconsciously smoothed across the sheets was… distracting.  

“I’m _fine_. In a bad mood because I have this damn cold!! Maybe even a very bad mood, I admit it. Still, you’re overreacting,” Harvey insisted, feeling edgy again. Then he sneezed loudly. “ _Fuck_.”

He couldn’t even fool himself like this.

On point, Jim gave him this baleful, suspicious glance as he handed him a tissue. Harvey snatched it out of the cold hand and blew his nose, messily, while blue eyes narrowed further, with that disconcerting _focus_.

“Th- ,“ he attempted, interrupted by Jim snapping: “Stop acting like everything is fine!!” Jim took a quick breath, as if to stop himself, but then barreled on: “… as if _anything_ about this situation is _fine_ , Harv! That’s a lie. Look…,” - he was leaning forward into Harvey’s space, close enough to touch – and suddenly there was so much _angry deep-sea blue_ in his vision he was lost for words – “I just told you I’m not good at this! But…,"

Jim’s face fell instantaneously into an open maw of anxiety, swirling beneath the righteous anger:

“I’ll try. I’ll try harder. I _will_. For _you_ , Harv.”

_Baby…_

But Jim wasn’t finished yet. He gripped the sheet, creasing it more than it had been before he’d straightened it.

“…don’t know what’s gotten into you, but – could you stop…” – Jim huffed as he searched for words – “ _belittling_ yourself around me? Harvey, there’s _no_ _reason_ why _you_ should think any less of yourself! You’ve done nothing wrong... you’ve done _nothing_ to be ashamed for in my eyes. I don’t _deserve_ you, but I try to. I try. I fail, but at least I _try_ …,”

He fixed his storm-eyes back on Harvey, nailing him to the headboard with his final question: “So, could you _please_ stop being a dick and give me a _chance_ to _make_ this better?”

 _(It’s my fault, not yours! I’m the one always doing things wrong. You deserve so much better than me, than having to endure me! I HATE the way you keep belittling yourself around me. Stop it, please stop it!)_ Jim’s thoughts snarled out.

Hearing the snarled words bouncing around in Harvey’s head, was a totally surreal experience, because at the same time he was hearing Jim’s real voice, tense growl with maybe that slightly shaky quality - but not _nearly_ at the emotional peak of his thoughts.

If he was catching snippets of Jim’s thoughts, then his friend was defending Harvey’s honor… even against Harvey.

_Ridiculous._

Then why was his heart feeling light for hearing it?

Jim thought that _he_ didn’t deserve _Harvey_ , a pitiful partner and a drunk? But… Harvey wanted to deserve Jim (Even though he didn’t). He wanted… he _wanted_ … for them to deserve each other!

And not talk about it, preferably.

_Okay, so then they were both self-deprecating idiots._

“ _Jim_ …,“ he breathed, a frantic puff of effort. Yes, this was the emotional rollercoaster of being lovesick for a man like the one across from him. Maybe he _was_ mentally ill by now. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more: Kiss Jim or slap the man, or both and _then_ hug him.

Would that be a viable option?

“ _Harv_ …,” Jim retorted, uncharacteristically waspish.

Apparently, he’d completely failed to set Jim at ease with his useless stuttering, because the Boy Scout seemed to be on a roll, now…

“I _trust_ you, with my _life_ … with _everything_ I-” – here Jim’s face spasmed with guilt – “ _this_ horrific _body_ has b-become… I trust you more than I ever trusted Barbara… or… even Le- do you realize _how_ _hard_ this is for me, to still trust _anyone_ , after what’s happened? After the things I’ve _done_? You really think I don’t _care about you,_ Harv? That I’d let _anyone_ else ever see me l-like… like… _yesterday_ , without wanting to _end_ it?” Jim pressed out.

* …Jim, baby, no!! Don’t say that. Please don't _mean_ that!!! *

It was endearing and completely terrifying how… _upset_ Jim Gordon could look.

Jesus, right now Harvey _wanted_ Jim to hear his thoughts. Just for a moment, so he would believe him!!! But it wasn’t working.

_(Please … can’t explain how important you are to me. Want to be by your side, too… but I’m… broken. It’s wrong. It’s wrong!! Harvey. I’m so broken...)_

Jim’s thoughts hit the neurons of his brain, tiny mournful hail stones. They weren’t the loudest, but the strongest thoughts pushed across the oceans between their worlds so far.

_Gah!!! “I… can’t explain how important you are to me.”… that’s what he said (thought)!_

Harvey’s heart swelled and throbbed, with a good and bad hurt.

“I – Jim, I kn– “

Jim cut him off with a vicious hand gesture.

_Was he still not finished?_

“Put you through enough in the last days, we both know it. It’s not _right_. You deserve better than having to deal with _me_ … with _this thing_ I’ve become.”

Jim pressed his eyes together tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to witness Harvey’s obvious disappointment. “ _I’m_ _sorry_.”

God, Jim _still_ believed he was a monster. How could he ever convince Jim of the contrary?

A huge ball of emotion rolled around in his stomach.

He grabbed at Jim’s hand, gripping it firmly in his larger one. Jim tensed like getting ready for a fight. But he didn’t shift away, just like the night before. His eyes opened again, hurt and deep, staring back _challengingly_. _Make me cry and I’ll break your nose._

“Baby, of course I know you care… I do…,” Harvey tried, feeling ill when his brain supplied: _As a friend. Buddy. Best Bro. Nothing more, never more. Oh, shut up!!! Gahhh!!!!_

“ And… I will _never_ think of you as a monster. _Never_. And you’re _NOT_. You’ve got to let these thoughts go!” Harvey cooed. Hating himself for how bitter-sweet it made him feel when Jim’s expression softened under the pressure of his hand, willingly giving in to his desire to be held.

Jim needed to gather his strength to swallow the lump in his own throat, a spark of defiance returning even as a single tear loosed, dripping down one cheek.

“Not going to deny I feel guilty about it, how couldn’t I? That’s not the point.”

He sounded desperate, used to being misunderstood. He suddenly leaned up into his space, so _close_ that Harvey felt his breath ghost against his cheek. All Harvey could see were Jim’s eyes, wide and wet, blatantly earnest. It struck him down, severing most connections between his aching body and his brain in overdrive.

“Harvey. _Please_. The point isn’t that I feel I owe you… I do. But I’m not doing this because I feel _guilty_ , or because I owe you. _I’m_ _doing_ _this_ _because_ _I_ _care about you. I really do. I_ _always have_! I’m sorry if I’m terrible at – s-showing it…,” he stuttered out, so _desperate_ and _insecure_ Harvey felt _floored_ again.

_Oh. OH? Wh- HUH?_

No way Harvey had just heard that right. Wait, what _had_ he just heard?

If he opened his mouth now, Harvey knew he would start begging. He kept his mouth closed.

Jim was so close, practically in his face, he could see every eyelash in brilliant focus. If he were to lean closer...

_Kiss him._

All Harvey saw was blue stormy waters crashing within the ring of golden lashes. Open sea, dangerous and deep. Worth drowning in…

Jim jerked back with a funny sound in the back of his throat, as if he’d hit a live wire.

He looked _shook_ , as bad as Harvey felt. Jim leaned back more fully with a shaky sigh, trying to regain a semblance of control, mouth working as his gaze shied away like a skittish horse. He held up a hand in a pacifying gesture – maybe a warding gesture against his own bravery - and it was obvious how bad he was struggling not to break down in a string of sobs or some other kind of terrifyingly atypical reaction for the old Gordon.

_(I – something’s wrong with me. Can’t do this… can’t. What am I even saying right now?)_

Jim’s inner voice seemed to be overloaded, reverting to a toneless statement, a tape recording kicking in to hide the glitch in protocol.

_I don’t know, Jim. What ARE you saying?_

Not for the first time, Harvey asked himself how repressed Jim was. How driven this man was, driven to be absolutely _normal_ by their generation’s ideas, so driven he couldn’t even shift through his own emotions anymore, a caged animal who’d forgotten it had been caged the whole time. If this was linked to his childhood or not, it certainly seemed to throw a very long shadow…

Jim lifted his eyes, the blue swirling oddly.

“Look, I’m tired too,” he barked out. He combed his hair back aggressively, not looking him directly in the eyes. “All I’m saying is: Don’t think I don’t _care_ , Harv. Please _don’t_. I wouldn’t even _be_ here if it weren’t for you… can’t you understand what that means to me, that you’re always by my side? How you’re the only one in my life who hasn’t left…?” his voice broke a bit on that last, awful word.

Jim wiped across his face, quickly, probably mortally embarrassed.

“Don’t _imply_ what you can’t _know,_ Harvey _.”_

Harvey swallowed.

_I’m not sure what I just heard, Jim. Or saw. But… I’m not sure I can go on with you this much in need of some release, if only for your own emotional wellbeing. Jesus, Baby, just let me take care of you already!_

Jim took a breath, the challenging glint returning with a vengeance.

“And… a-also not denying I’m shitty at helping, but could you let me at least _try_ to take care of you, _too_?” Jim barreled on. “Or are you going to keep being such a dick about it? Are you being hard on me for some reason I should know about?”

Harvey shook his head and cringed a smile. “Nope. Sorry, sir. I’ll try harder.”

Jim looked him over, challenging, the sea churning within.

_Damn you._

“Don’t call me sir. Makes me feel like your superior officer, which would be damn awkward,” he growled out, after a very _long_ look Harvey couldn’t remotely fathom. He offered his own, cringy smile, maybe his best attempt to steer into less dangerous waters. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be boring, though. Like working with a rookie cop.”

Harvey should be laughing, probably, very loudly and hysterically. He needed… an answer, dammit!

_You should have kissed him when you had the chance. You’ll never get another one._

At least, it would only be fair to offer him (at least) three bottles of finest Whiskey to sift through the sands of Jim’s thoughts for the truth about the depth of his feelings.

A cringy smile wasn’t enough. But Harvey’s circuitry was so fried and he _really_ needed a moment to sort through this. Two. Maybe a year.

Nice to hear Jim cared, though.

Soothing, if also kinda worrying, because he didn’t know what to _call_ what had just happened. The helpless smile would just have to do the talking he couldn’t. He couldn’t expect for Jim to burst into song about his feelings and list them in alphabetical order or something, _anything_ to make it clearer _what_ he’d been saying… what had the Boy Scout been saying?!

“Ugh, alright, alright,” Harvey said, magnanimously, noticing the shrewd, but relieved look Jim threw him at that.

_Can’t wait for me to get you out of the deep water, Jim?_

“Already told ya I’m in a bad mood. Don’t take everything so seriously, Putz. Or maybe I _will_ call you sir, or _Captain_ …,” he continued.

_If that floats your boat… bet it would, wouldn’t it?_

Jim raised a straight, critical eyebrow, and Harvey swore he saw the struggle to suppress the sassiest eyeroll in history.

“ _Harvey_ …,” he growled instead, _so_ _desperate_ for some respite.

_(Would you please cut it out? I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t even understand myself… )_

Interesting, sometimes, snatching these snippets from Jim’s mind… but it would take getting used to. Also amusing, seeing him trying his best at looking stern, as he was still kneeling next to the bed in his bathrobe, with tear tracks on his face. Trying to bring his own opposing sides back together, to be bossy and submissive at the same time…

“Know you care, Putz.” Harvey whispered after some consideration.

He gave Jim a gentle smile, patting at his hand, silently pleading at him not to pry for something he wouldn’t be able to deal with. “Thank you, for being here. For me. And I know I’m an asshat when I’m sick.”

Jim gazed up at him critically, maybe a little anxiously.

“Harv…,” he ventured, seemingly still looking to find an appropriate opener for a difficult conversation Harvey wasn’t prepared for. And Jim had just shown himself to also not be prepared for. So, Harvey did the only thing he could: Ignore him and hope Jim would drop it if he didn’t engage. That usually worked, after all.

“Should have warned ya, huh? Sorry I don’t come with instructions,” he said, apologetic on the surface, mostly teasing beneath.

Jim studied him from under his lashes, frowning, although it seemed directed at himself.

“ _Want_ to be.” A crease of tenderness settled around the corners of his mouth. “ _Could_ have warned me. Guess you didn’t want to, though. _Asshat_.”

Harvey smiled slowly. “Noted,” he said, enjoying the small smile of recognition he was echoing Jim’s words.

The Boy Scout grunted. His head came down to rest against his bent arm on the edge of the bed, hair falling against their loosely locked hands. “Maybe I do need a few instructions, though...,” he ventured tentatively.

There it was again, that distinctly submissive vibe, flickering beneath.

You like being “instructed”, Jimbo? Don’t tempt me... I'm not strong enough...

Crazy hard not to grin like a maniac. Which he wasn’t. He _wasn’t_ … a maniac for Jim.

“Maybe you do,” he acknowledged quietly, riveted by the pale column of Jim’s neck against the sheets, and the way some golden strands framed his upturned hopeful face.

Jim sighed and gave him a small, tight smile.

_( I'm not even sure what we just fought about, Harv. Tired of it...)_

That was true. Sighing too, Harvey couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to that glossy hair in the need for some more soothing of his own frayed nerves. Wasn’t strong enough to say no, not right now.

Harvey let the tips of his fingers drift through the slightly sticky golden-brown strands, attempting the careless tactic again, enjoying that Jim was _letting_ him do this, now, apparently whenever he felt like it… God knew he felt like messing Jim’s hair up too often. Jim didn’t acknowledge he was practically being petted by his partner. His lashes wavered when Harvey’s fingertip caressed the top of a sensitive earlobe, though. A relieved puff of air left his nostrils as he exhaled. Harvey smiled, retracting the finger with a tiny smirk.  

Jim wanted to give up control so badly, sometimes. And he could see what was up with Jim’s hair…

Somehow, that sappy interlude had cleared the most of the tension from the room. Jim gazed up at him with tired eyes, waiting for a verdict on his caretaking performances.

“You know, something hot to drink doesn’t sound too bad, if I think about it…,” Harvey said. 

Jim’s gaze locked onto his face. He straightened up hopefully.

“That’s good,” he said. “Hope it’s still hot.”

Maybe, in the end, they were both just cowards. Maybe they really were both incapable of ever addressing the elephants in the room, and had to learn to live with that.

Harvey moved his arm and felt the mug. “Just the right drinking temperature, I believe,”

He nodded at Jim.

“Help me sit up straighter?”

“Sure.”

Cursing at the protestations in his lower back, Harvey let Jim prop up some cushions for him to sit more comfortably.  Jim handed him the mug; eyes appraising. “Right… don’t spill it.”

“Persistent, that’s what you are,” Harvey observed as he grasped the mug handle, their fingertips touching. It came out a bit condescending, not for fault of trying to change the mood, but Jim seemed to take it in stride.

Jim’s fingers had been quite cool, almost cold. Harvey just felt hot and sweaty.

He took a sip, smirking into the mug as Jim sighed softly. “’s good,” Harvey offered, coughing before taking another sip. He paused a moment. “Thanks, Jim.”

Jim watched him, lips quirking, and rose to stand. “Anytime, Harv,” he said. Amazing how well he could hide his own smirk.

Then he … stood there again, studying him as he sipped his tea.

It was that sort of forced calm he knew Jim could shoulder for hours if need be, but he could see how said shoulders were hunched inwards slightly, and how he seemed to be trying to restart his circulation, if the barest movements in the pockets was anything for a detective to judge by. Harvey tried to valiantly ignore the nagging guilt that Jim might be freezing after his shifts. His temperature regulation did go wacky for a while every time he changed (or didn’t give into a change in time), they’d gathered more than enough experience with that quirk by now. He had to do something…. He couldn’t just be waited on like this if Jim was secretly freezing, dammit. He wasn’t going to be that asshole.

“Why are you standing there, staring at me?” Harvey drawled, registering the glare he could still tease out of Jim simply by _slurping_ the liquid in front of him. Some things didn’t change.

“Stop looking like a tin soldier. Sit down, would ya?”

Jim granted him the barest eyeroll.

“I can’t.” He folded his arms. “Please drink the tea?” he said. The smile looked altogether forced.

“You can’t? Why the hell not?”

Jim’s eyes flicked to the other side of the bed. He shifted where he stood, somewhat defeatedly.

“It’s fine. I’ve been lying around enough.”

_Oh. The sheets and towels were still damp, that was why he wouldn’t sit._

God, Jim was entirely too self-deprecating to be completely sane. 

The only dry spot left on the bed was where Harvey sat, and the very edge of the bed where Jim had briefly rested his head. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit in the room, except the floor itself, and Jim wasn’t doing that for long when he had a choice to stand instead. Understandable, if you weren’t granted legs all the time.

“Right, well, appreciate the sentiment, but not going to be waited on like this…,” Harvey scooted over, to the middle of the bed, ignoring the terse sigh. “…not if you don’t sit down, at least.”

Jim groaned. “Would you just drink the damn tea?”

“Sit down here, Putz. Then I’ll be good. I promise?”

Jim plunked down on the side of the bed with a world-weary look, not in the mood to fight him on the subject.

“Fine, I’m sitting. Hope you’re happy. Now, if you would _please_ cooperate?”

Harvey chuckled. Jim was switching backwards and forwards between bossy and submissive, and it was sort of… yeah, maybe this rapid-cycling _versatile_ Jim floated Harvey’s boat more than he wanted to admit to. Especially…

“Harvey… will you damn well _eat_ _your_ _food_.”

Yes, especially combined with _that_ , a sort of desperate, sexy annoyance. The command in Jim’s voice always made his stomach twist into knots, now more than ever. But god, somehow a part of him really _wanted_ to dick around a bit more, push the Boy Scout’s buttons. Sure, a part of him felt bad about it. Guilty. Still, he felt a grin slink across his face.

“I’m weak, Jim. Would you feed me?” he managed to say, sickly sweet, batting his eyes as he held out the bowl of warm soup.

Ouch. That was _low_ , Bullock.

“W-What?” Jim barked out sharply, goggling at him like he’d lost his mind.

There was some evil enjoyment to be had from the mirage of micro-expressions Harvey’s words had set off in Jim’s generally stoic face. The anger, the panic, the _bewilderment_. The… brief spark of curiosity… and the micro-expressions continued…

It was a gamble with high stakes. Jim could – understandably – feel ridiculed or humiliated by that comment, considering how he had half-suckled the oil from Harvey’s gentle fingers just the night before. How _small_ he’d seemed. Argh, and now the pang of guilt and remorse was coming back so strong that Harvey couldn’t hold it longer than a few seconds…!

“Sorry, uh…I’m such an asshole, Jimbo, I didn’t mean...!”

“Are you serious?” Jim said, very slowly and carefully, staring at him with something _very_ close to anger, but no real heat. That sexy annoyance again.

“Course. I’m – I’m very sick. As you can see, I’m not myself. I need help,” Harvey said with the straightest face he could muster, a hitch in his rough voice.

_God, if that ain’t the truth._

“Hmm,” Jim made, arching an eyebrow as he processed Harvey’s intent rapidly. Something in the press of his lips against each other was distracting.  “…don’t know. Feels more like an offer to even-out the odds? A chance for some revenge…?”

Oh, thank _fuck_ , that Jim hadn’t taken offence.

They both knew what had happened the day before hadn’t been about conscious humiliation at _all_.

But… it was nice to play, even out… _whatever_ was still in the air between them.

To play it had been a different context altogether. To pretend between the lines, that Jim had _wanted_ to be so submissive, but now, _wanted_ to turn the cards around. Either way, it wasn’t like Harvey would _mind_. And what the hell was happening to Jim that he was even playing _along_?

“Not revenge, that’s not what I’d call it,” he offered archly, opening the chess board.

Jim wanted _instructions_ , huh?

“No…?” Jim said slowly, cocking his head to the side and feigning innocence. “What would you call it, Harv?” His eyes were careful… and such a _gorgeous_ blue.

“Well…,” Harvey drawled. Then he winked. “Justice. Of _course_.”

It was _heaven_ , watching the war of outrage and incredulous amusement sparkling backwards and forwards in those blue depths, and the hint of a white tooth as Jim smiled crookedly. Harvey hoped this wasn’t a _very_ realistic, weird-ass fever dream…

“Of course…,” Jim echoed, moving closer on the bed until his hip was almost brushing against Harvey’s knee.

This was bantering, but sort of _not_. It was suggestive… of other things. And Jim was… _playing_ _along_ _with_ _it_.

“Clearly, we need to uphold that…,” Jim said, all cool, and Harvey briefly wondered how badly he’d corrupted Saint, Holier-than-thou-Jim-Gordon already.

Jim took the bowl into his hand and circled the spoon in it, watching Harvey for a moment, as if trying to decide on the best way forward.

“So…,” he said, looking at him challengingly. “Bet you’re a difficult one to feed.”

Yooza, was Jim humiliating _him_ now? Talk about emotional hairpin turns. But it was… _hot_.

_Huh. Who knew he may have an unexplored kink there… not to mention Jim?!_

“They always said I talk too much,” Harvey admitted softly. “And my manners left much to be desired.”

Jim gave him a mocking look. “Sounds about right.”

Harvey was still dealing with the sassiness of _that_ when – “Open,” Jim commanded.

Harvey grinned and closed his mouth.

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Harvey, I _swear_ …,”

Spoilsport.

Harvey rolled his eyes and opened his mouth ridiculously wide.

_“….aaah.”_

Jim shook his head, trying to keep down the smile from overtaking the stern glare. “Now keep still and do as you’re _told_.”

He fed Harvey the first spoon of soup, gently pushing it in. Harvey swallowed and opened again, less wide and mocking as he felt himself getting a little aroused.

Jim sent him a glance and started feeding him. His lip pressed together in utmost concentration not to spill a single drop.

Soon the soup was gone. Jim leaned back with a smug little smile Harvey wanted to reclaim immediately. “Okay. Better?”

“Mmm. Yeah. But one question, _Captain_ …,” Harvey drawled.

Jim gave the barest eyeroll.

“Dammit, Harvey…,”

“Okay, okay. Just one question.”

Jim studied him suspiciously for a moment and nodded.

 “Yeah?”

“Been meaning to ask this whole time… what happened to the chicken soup, Jim?”

“What?” Jim groaned.

“Yeah. Thought that’s what I saw in the cupboard just yesterday.”

“Is this a trick question? There isn’t any chicken soup. Just fed you tomato.”

“I know. But then why –“ Harvey leaned forward and gently pulled a tiny piece of chicken out of Jim’s top hairs – “is there chicken in your _hair_?”

It was adorable, the dismayed flush creeping over Jim’s ears and neck.

Harvey stuck the piece in his mouth and swallowed.

“Hmm, definitely chicken. Odd choice of bath ingredient.”

Jim cleared his throat, unable to hide his embarrassment.

“I can’t recommend it…,” he said, wincing. “Painfully… salty.”

He balked when Harvey reached out a hand.

“Or… you can just keep running around with pieces of chicken noodle?” Harvey warned.

Jim met his eyes hesitantly.

“Come on Jim. Chicken doesn’t suit you.”

Jim huffed, and Harvey would have bet he was finally going to draw the line there and pull away.

Instead he leaned in closer, suspicious and strangely alluring as he blinked at him. “You want to comb my hair?”

 _Absolutely_. Totally. Every day of the week. For _hours_.

“Know it’s probably fruitless, but I’d do anything to let you look a bit more professional,” Harvey said, absolutely _loving_ the prissy bark of annoyance that evoked, and the barely veiled interest in the corner of the eyes.

_Come on, Baby. You really want to give in, just a little bit, right?_

_I’ll beg you on my knees if I have to, but please let me help you out. PLEASE, JIM???_

“ _You_ want to make _me_ look more professional?” Jim said, breathless, like he was holding back laughter.

“Well…,” Harvey drawled, unperturbed. “I’m not the one looking like he took a bath of chicken noodle, know what I’m sayin’?”

A crooked half-smile was forming on Jim’s face, quite against his will.

“In that case, I’d better cooperate, right? For… professionality?” he intoned, that adorable waver of repressed laughter stuck in his vocal cords.

“Exactly.”

Jim looked him up and down, and there was something _lingering_ in his gaze as his eyes locked on Harvey’s mane. His lips quirked a little more.

“And you?” he challenged.

“ _Me_?” Harvey said innocently, flipping some red locks back.

“You.” Jim said, gazing at him. He snorted as Harvey leered at him teasingly, jerking his head towards Harvey’s mane. “ _That_.”

“What, this?” Harvey said, gesturing at his disheveled locks. “It’s called _hair_ , Jim. Not ken-doll perfection, _manly_ hair. You mind it?”

Jim looked torn between a glare and a bark of laughter, settling for the usual go-between: A sort of sexy, _simmering_ look that made his eyes more alive.

“Maybe.” A smirk rose. “If we’re talking professionality… whatever you call that, it’s certainly not standard length.” Jim focused on Harvey’s mane again, something fixed in his gaze now. “Even if it’s… manly,” he added, voice growing rough again.

 _Dang_. Did Jim like long hair… even on Harvey?

“Justice would be served if it could at least be…,” – Jim swallowed slightly, as if really considering this – “ _tamed_ … somehow…,”

Harvey felt his heartbeat quicken, but kept his voice carefully calm.

“Sound’s alright to me. Hair taming on both sides – but no scissors. That fair?”

“Fair.” Jim nodded seriously, but his eyes _simmered_ … and the way he bit his lip looked hopeful.

Harvey grinned.

“But first... any chance for another bowl of soup?”

Jim pushed away the softness and struggled to stand. “Course. You still hungry?”

Harvey just smiled and handed him the empty bowl, earning him raised eyebrows, but no resistance. In silence, Jim returned with another bowl of soup, gently sitting down on the side of the bed.

“Want to be fed again?” he said, suspiciously.

“No,” Harvey said, hoping he wasn’t reading this wrong. “But you do.”

Jim frowned, looking a bit hurt. “I don’t. M’not even hungry...,”

Harvey gazed at him, gently taking the bowl from his cold hands. “Think you are, Putz. You have anything to eat since getting up?”

“…that’s not the point, though,” Jim grunted out after a beat, a petulant look in his eyes.

_(Not fair... want to take care of you!)_

_That’s a No._

“It is to me. Said I’d take good care of you, remember?”

“But – Harv, _you’ve_ got a cold – I,”

“Uh. Uh. The cook must have a decent meal too, hmm?” Harvey patted the sheets next to him with one hand. “You wanted instructions. Come here.”

Jim sent him a weak glare. “I don’t n-,”

“Jim,” Harvey said. “ _Sit_.”

The Boy Scout grunted in annoyance. “… I’m fine. Harvey. Really. Don’t make this about me.”

“I’m not,” Harvey lied. “But you need to eat something too, don’t you think?”

The simmering look was back.

“…suppose so,” Jim said, entirely unconvinced as he obediently sat.

Harvey smirked. “Open up,”

“I – I can feed myself,” Jim stammered out, clearly struggling with giving up control this easily.

“Come on, Putz.”

“No.”

“Jim. Let me feed you.”

“ _Fine_.” Jim snapped. He leaned forward aggressively, growling as his teeth clicked against the metal of the proffered spoon. Harvey forget to breathe as Jim swallowed, releasing the spoon with a faint smacking of the lips, eyes heating up.

Fuck, did Jim look smoking hot when he was angry.

Or lick his lips like that.

Harvey held out the next spoonful of soup, distracted that apparently even Jim’s nostrils flaring was enough to get him quite bothered.

Jim growled at him, annoyed as hell, but obeyed, letting Harvey feed him spoonful by spoonful.

His eyes were still sparking when Harvey finished and set the empty bowl to the side.

“You’re impossible,” he stated, almost a snarl.

“Probably,” Harvey conceded smugly. “But I bet you’re less cold now, aren’t you?”

Jim stiffened, expression wobbling. “You knew?”

“You were as pale as a ghost. And I kind of know the drill by now,” Harvey reminded him.

“Oh – yeah.” Jim’s angry look snuffed out. “Well, the feeding part was unnecessary… but…well, thanks.” His gaze grew more fixed. “But this isn’t about me, shouldn’t. Let me take care of _you_ , Harv. Food was just the beginning.”

This was intriguing.

“Okay, I’ll take the bait. What’s next?” Harvey queried. "The hair?"

Jim smirked. “We'll do that later. Turn around and lie down. And _don’t_ _talk_. Think you can do that?”

 _Yooza_. Sassy as hell.

Harvey’s heartbeat was a little unstable as he managed a sage nod. “Sure. Captain. Whatever you say.”

He _loved_ the eye-roll Jim sent the ceiling. The Boy Scout cleared his throat and then proceeded to stare him down. The simmering look was back… and gaining in intensity.

“You’re gonna listen to _my_ instructions now?” Jim queried darkly.

“Maybe,” Harvey said, after a long gaze at him, drinking in that mysteriously attractive, barely restrained annoyance. “If I like them.”

Jim smirked faintly, but nodded.

“Fair enough. Lie down…?” he tried again, a fond spark to his eye. When Harvey just stared, Jim tipped his head to the side slowly, and looked at him from under his lashes. “Trust me, Harv. This might be to your liking…,” Harvey wouldn’t have _insisted_ he heard actual innuendo in that, but the way Jim’s fingertips gently stroked across the straightened sheet was had an allure of its own.  

Jim slowly tilted his head up, silent, eyes flashing back to barely controlled annoyance. Which – maybe he was crazy – really looked _hellishly_ sexy on the handsome man.

_Almost enough to believe Jim wanted to ravish him – have him any way he wanted – Harvey wouldn’t say no…_

_(Jeez, Harv. I said, lie down!)_

“A-alright…,” Harvey said. Somewhere between the eye-roll and that simmering glance from beneath golden lashes all his thoughts and fears had disappeared, leaving nothing but a sense of breathless giddiness.

What's happening?

“Thank you,” Jim said earnestly, as Harvey flopped over.

He shivered a bit as Jim’s cold hands ghosted across his shoulders.

“This won’t do. Take your shirt off," Jim intoned. 

“Sure, sir.” Harvey whispered, struggling up again and sneezing. He was sure Jim was smirking.

_Beautiful bastard. Getting me into all these complicated knots…_

He froze when he felt Jim’s hands circle around his chest, grab at the material and gently lifted the tee up and over his head. Gosh, was he freaking glad Jim had perched directly behind his back, couldn’t see his face, because the expression there was too private.

A waterfall of disheveled, reddish-gray hair cascaded around his shoulders as the material was pulled away and he huffed, suddenly feeling exposed in more ways than one as Jim’s cold fingers splayed across the muscles of his broad back.

He felt the shift of Jim leaning in, gently resting the side of his cheek against one of his shoulder blades and rubbing against it.

“Want to take good care of you, _too_ ,” Jim reassured, a soft purr reverberating through their connected bodies. It was the first time that Harvey noticed Jim gain conscious control over the sound.

And _damn_ if he didn’t sound like the most contented tiger, claws retracting into huge velvet paws, blue jewels shining out from under heavy lids.

“You’d like that? A little caretaking?” Jim teased fondly, hand stroking across Harvey’s shivering ribs. “ _Please_ , Harv. Please let me.”

He couldn’t speak. 

_Bite me. Jim... Jim really wanted this? To take care of him?_

Mouth dry, he nodded, hypnotized by what was happening.

Jim must have noticed, from the satisfied rumble Harvey felt through his back.

And Harvey Bullock caved like a heap of fallen snow, hardly noticing the pillow beneath him as Jim’s hands settled on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all that!!!  
> Yes. Want to slap, hug and kiss them too. Course I do. Not sure about the order, though. You decide ;). Have a good one, and please don't give up on this fic, 'kay? You're awesome, please stay :3. Promise we're getting warm...and before long its gonna get real toasty. Just in time for winter maybe XD.
> 
> P.S. When Harvey is "speaking" to Jim on purpose via his mind (Harvey's telepathic attempts), I used * *. When Harvey is "receiving" Jim's telepathic thoughts, I used ( ). Hope it wasn't too confusing, it was like writing a four-lane-highway communication scene XD.


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